Lying Loves
by Sam Le Faie
Summary: It was just a job, HE was just a job. Just like always, clean and easy, in and out. But looks burned, touches seared and words suddenly meant so much more. HE was the job, but she prayed it wouldn't spell the end of HER. [Hiatus pending rewrite]
1. I: First Kill

**Pre-s: To any who is re-reading this story from during the time it was named "The Art of Death & Seduction", **

**some chapters have been editted. Not much, but yeah, the changes are there.**

**I: First Kill**

**By: Faie- Paul**

* * *

><p>The luminescent glow of the night moon filtered through the algae that were growing uninhibitedly across the shattered panes of the glass windows. From time to time, a lone car would drive by, disrupting the dark shadows that were cast down upon the cracked pavement outside the old abandoned building. The night was young and yet, in the suburbs of the city, where the area comprised of only abandoned infrastructure lining the roads and hardly anything was working, all that surrounded her was inky darkness.<p>

A lone figure made her way across the empty street, the soft pattering of her footsteps echoing throughout the silence of the night. Her dark overcoat was wrapped tightly around her lean build and dark shades perched high on the bridge of her nose. Any physical feature that could be used against her was shielded away, except for her full lips that carved a grim expression across her face. She radiated a sense of mysteriousness, and she knew it. It was absolutely dire that she blends in with the surroundings, camouflaged away from prying eyes.

Turning a sharp corner, the female swerved into an old dilapidated building. She gave her new environment a quick once- over, wrinkling her pert nose up in disgust as she regarded the gaudy paintings that hung along the walls in disdain. Cheap canvases that exhibited careless sloshes of the brush and a mismatched combination of shades ranging from the dullest of grey to the glaring glow of yellow that bespoke the morning sun, probably purchased at the local convenience stall and displayed just for show.

A ceiling light swayed dangerously above her head and the dim, flickering light cast ominous shadows of her slight form against the wall. Fading paint was peeling off the ceiling, and there were signs of rodents everywhere, from small holes driven through the crevices of the walls to tiny, leftover morsels of food littering the worn carpet. Pitiful, she thought, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, how the high and mighty have fallen.

Not wanting to waste any more of her precious time, she strode swiftly along the narrow hallway only to stop abruptly in front of the second door to last. She had contemplated kicking the door down, an easy feat to accomplish with her toned physique; still…a man did deserve some courtesy, even in the last few moments of his pitiful life. Giving the rotting plank of wood before her two sharp knocks, she waited.

Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a pudgy, middle- aged male with only a pale beige towel wrapped loosely around his waist. A thick layer of golden hair sprouted from all over his chest and his stomach pooched over the rim of the thin cloth. A look of shock was plastered all over his face.

Reaching his thick, stubby fingers out, he gently rubbed over the smooth skin of the girl's cheeks with its wrinkled nubs. The disbelieving expression plastered on his aging on his face

deepened several tones as his cracked lips quivered slightly. She could almost hear his heart thud loudly in his chest, drumming out a rhythm of growing anxiety.

"What…how are you still? But that car accident..." His thick, phlegmy voice filled the air, coupled with choked sobs. The girl spoke for the first time, her soft voice the exact likeness of his recently deceased daughter. "I won't die, father. Not without you by my side. We'll be together right? Forever and ever…"

With that, the female whipped out a 9mm Glock and fired it once, a point blank shot aimed right at his chubby chest. The man's face immediately contorted to one of sudden fear. His large hand clamped down tightly on her thin shoulders, his fingers tangling themselves among her red tresses that were draped over her slight shoulders.

Within seconds, the older male's pupils dilated and rolled back in its sockets as he dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor with a resounding "thud." Said body twitched pitifully for a few moments as life was sucked out of him with each passing second. Death finally claimed him into its dark abyss of nothingness and his whole body went utterly limp.

Just at that split second, a car veered by outside the apartment block and the sudden dimming of light emanating from the street lamp along the road cast a shadow against the dusty curtains; a dimming that swept over his body and bathed him in a dark light. The girl almost laughed. She had never been one of religion but the scene had seemed almost symbolic. Tucking the murder weapon safely back into its holster strapped tightly along her thin waist, she bid the place a silent goodbye.

Striding back across the street, she climbed into the sleek body of her Chrysler Crossfire and arranged herself into a comfortable position on the upholstered leather seat. Revving up the engine, her baby of a vehicle roared to life and sped off into the dark of the night.

* * *

><p>The vehicle made a sharp turn into the empty slot situated at the far end of the car park and Cagalli stepped out, walking swiftly towards the elevator that stood at the opposite end of the level. She was feeling restless tonight and to top it off with the cherry on top, a terrible headache kept threatening to split her head down the middle. She moaned inwardly, perhaps she should have denied the order that had come her way that afternoon, the aftereffect it had on her head was simply unbearable.<p>

Clutching the disposable grocery bag in her clenched fist, she combed her free hand through her wild golden locks, pushing a few rebellious strands of hair away from her face. Cagalli's trainers tapped an impatient beat on the cracked concrete as she waited for the elevator to slowly make its descent into the lower floors of the basement.

The loud "ding!" of the bell signaled her stop to alight and Cagalli mentally cursed the lift operator who had recently replaced the lift's electronic bell with one of a shriller ring. "Better to hear it with, my dear," was his comment, when he waved off her complaint that the bell was simply too loud and was disrupting her daily meditation at dawn.

"Keh. I swear, if one day that bell drives me nuts, you're the first one I'm coming to, and I'll bet that the bell would ring its loudest when broken over your good-for-nothing head. Just how you like it." She had cursed under her breath when stomping back to her loft; and the man still had the impertinence to yell "Don't stomp, dearie! You'll disturb the neighbours downstairs!" Cagalli had wanted nothing more than to wrangle the last breath out of him at that moment.

Dragging her weary body through the unlit hallways of her apartment loft, she plopped down heavily onto the soft sheets layering her bed, the silken fabric cold against her exposed skin. Cagalli clutched her down pillow tightly to her chest and buried her face in its exquisite softness. A gentle breeze drifted through the gap between the sliding window panes left ajar from the morning and its cold fingers caressed her cheeks intimately, not unlike a lover's.

An audible moan escaped her lips as she silently contemplated pulling herself out of the haven of her bed to pop a few aspirins for the pounding ache in her head. A sharp pain shot through the side of her head again and Cagalli moaned again. "Damn, even thinking's too hard for me now." Curling herself up under the silken sheets that were messily thrown over her body, Cagalli was utterly grateful when her weariness took over and sleep had claimed her into its warm embrace.

* * *

><p>As soon the trio of men stepped out of the safety of the dingy elevator and onto the worn carpeted floor, their nostrils were attacked by a cadaverous odour that sourced from the far end of the level. Above them, the already dim light flickered dangerously, threatening to fuse any moment. Instinctively, they brought their hands up to pinch their noses, barring out the stench as they reluctantly made their way towards the end of the hall and the horror that was about to unfold before their very eyes.<p>

With every step that they took, the smell got fouler and fouler until it was almost suffocating them. As if fate was acting against then, a loud fizzing sound filled the air and the lights above their heads flickered pitifully one last time before going out permanently. Flicking on their handheld torches, they gave the narrow walls of the apartment level a quick once over, sighing at the derelict condition that the furnishings were in.

An odd squeaking sound emanating from the darkness up front caught the attention of one of the men but he waved it off as someone fumbling clumsily about in their apartment in total darkness. The squeaks steadily grew louder as they approached warily, a hint of chaos tinted over them. It was soon joined by a noise that sounded a lot like SOMETHING was scampering about on the flooring just up ahead. That caught the men's attention. Directing the narrow beams of the light at the darkness in front of them, their eyes widened upon the sudden discovery that they were not alone.

Mice. Hundreds of grey, furry rodents scurried hurriedly about the landing, flooding the narrow space that was the hallway. One of them men cursed under his breath as they gingerly paved their way forward, none too happy on the new revelation they had, unfortunately, chanced upon. Not to mention that the poignant stench had severely worsened such that their nostrils flared painfully and their eyes stung and started to water. As they carefully weaved between the sea of scampering rodents, the luminescent glow of a torches swept briefly over a foreign object that lay motionless against the wall that partitioned the building off from the next.

His curiosity piqued, the young cop brought his torch up and as soon as the light penetrated the darkness that had encompassed the object, a startled gasp escaped his mouth and all thoughts fled from his mind. The torch slipped from his sweaty fist and dropped headlong towards the ground, earning a few indignant squeaks from the angry animals below as they scurried away in all directions in order to avoid the falling object.

"Cole? You okay man?" His partners gripped his shoulders gently as they shook him, but the only reaction they got was silent - the frozen expression on Cole's face that bespoke apparent fear. His expression was more than sufficient to curdle fear in their hearts, an ominous feeling tightening in their chests. Gulping loudly, they turned around, their hearts thudding out a beat of increasing fear.

The meager beams of light cut a path through the gloom and revealed everything in its way. From the distasteful caricatures to the hordes of mice that filled that emptiness on the floor and lastly, the still form of a human male recumbent on the worn carpet, his body barely visible beneath the mass of scurrying rodents. The sickeningly acrid stench from before? None other than the scent of death.

The men retched at the sight of his mangled body, as numerous hungry mice swarmed over his

naked chest, pausing occasionally to nibble feverishly at the flesh that made up the male's torso and it seemed as though they had done their work thoroughly enough. Sizeable chunks of flesh had seemingly disappeared from his body and clumps of maggots could be seen wriggling around helplessly on the exposed flesh, which had already commenced decaying under their action.

Steeling himself, officer Anderson squatted down low enough just enough to avoid the hordes of mice that scurried incessantly under his feet. With a forceful sweep of his free arm, he sent mice scattering in all directions as they hurriedly scampered away to safety. Willing his arm to move, he brought the slight beam of light to the man's face.

The male's countenance was stilled into one of terror and shock. His mouth was agape, revealing two rows of yellowing teeth and a gold implant at the top left corner, just beside his incisor. His lips were already tinted with a slight bluish hue and had shriveled, dry and cracked, his face a sickly yellow in waning. His eyes, sunken back into their sockets, their irises a glassy shade, reflecting trepidation in its highest degree, borne of imminent death.

Raising a quavering hand, Anderson slid his sweaty palm over the victim's face, gently bringing his eyelids down to a shut, his face cold to the touch. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Anderson felt a cold chill travel down his spine as he tried, and failed, to swallow down the growing disgust in his throat. Feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder and without turning around, he nodded his head, once, twice.

"Sanders to headquarters, victim's identity confirmed. Please dispatch the medical examiners and an ambulance to the crime scene, immediately." Turning his torso around, Sanders glanced at the squat form of his partner, he prodded him softly with the base of the torchlight, a signal for them to get their asses out of this stink hole and to wait for the forensics team to arrive.

Anderson gave the corpse one final over the shoulder glimpse before stepping onto the rusty metal grilling of the old fire-escape. Whoever did this, obviously did had naught a care for the authorities…and he'd pay for that.


	2. II: Athrun

**II: Athrun**

"Goooood morning! Get outta bed, ya sleepyhead! You promised to take me out to the movies today." Meyrin thrilled, flinging open the double, dark mahogany doors and practically pranced into the room. She froze in her steps when she caught sight of the rather distorted bulge, lying motionless on the bed.

A single bare leg was visible from beneath the tumbling of sheets, wrapped tightly around a single black bolster, its shade a stark contrast with the limb's flawless pale skin. A few unruly strands of dark hair stuck out from under the sheets, squashed up against the pale cherrywood headboard. Sighing, she crossed the space that separated him from her in a few quick strides, grabbed him by both ankles and pulled.

* * *

><p>"Athrun, over here, over here! Let's play!" A voice erupted from the small group of children that stood crowding around the opposite edge of the playground, numerous hands shooting up to wave at him.<p>

"Yeah Athrun, come here! It's really boring without you!"

An innocent smile lit up the boy's chubby face and his eyes sparkled with gaiety, "Really?" Quickening his steps, he ran as fast as his rather stubby legs could take him towards his friends.

"What are you guys playing?" he asked merrily, still rather breathless from the run, one hand capping his kneecap in a slight squat.

"Tug of war, but we're short of someone to be the rope. You're just what we need!"

"Eh? Eh! Argh! Wait! Don't puuuuulllllllll!"

* * *

><p>Meyrin heard him moan incoherently from under the bed sheets while flinging his free arm (the other was clinging on to the headboard as if his life depended on it) randomly about, attempting, and failing, to knock her prying hands away. As stubborn as she was, Meyrin refused to release him.<p>

Puffing a stray strand of red hair that had fallen across her face, she rewrapped her daintily manicured fingers around his ankles, secured a firmer grasp and pulled, this time with more efforts than before.

Much to her indignation, the moaning just increased several decibels in volume, resistance just got more, well, resistant and she could swear she heard the low creakings of the parquet floorboard as the bed slid heavily across the carpet. Groaning in frustration at the lazy bum (in her opinion) who obstinately, simply refused to get out of bed, she glared for a few silent moments before stomping out of the room in a fit of temper.

Cautiously, Athrun tugged the crumpled fabric down and away from his face, his disheveled hair masking most of his face. The arrival of Meyrin had no doubt been the cause of yet another unexpected nightmare. Ever since his family- claimed fiancé had moved into his mansion that sat proudly at the peak of Wuthering Hills, his once halcyon life had been turned up, down and all around.

* * *

><p>The first thing she had done as soon as she had flung open the heavy, double oak doors leading to the entrance hallway of his rather opulent mansion was to plunk several suitcases of intimidating size onto the polished marble of his doorstep, flip out a compact mirror and start to do overly meticulous checks on her makeup.<p>

Once she had ascertained that her face was still coated with who-knows-how-many layers of mascara and blush, she yelled in the most haughty manner for the maids to "Bring these bags up to Athrun's room and send for the chef to prepare his finest meal yet! The trip up the Hills has drained all of my energy and that simply won't do!"

Athrun had peeked his head out from over the banister to investigate the ruckus that had occurred downstairs. It was still early in the day and usually the house would be relatively quiet except for the slight bustle of the maids dusting up the furnishings. He was caught by surprise when he saw numerous servants scurrying about the main hall, staggering up the staircases with huge suitcases in tow and his head chef, culinary genius Antoine arguing with a rather annoyed redhead at the doorstep.

Descending the stairs, he got close enough to be in earshot of their heated conversation. "Merde! Zis is absurd! No one can zimply waltz in here and order moi, ze magnifique Antoine like zome lowly zervant around!"

"That's just it! I'm NOT a stranger. Call your master and we'll settle this quickly." The female exasperated.

The familiarity of the angered female's voice made him halt in his tracks, his left leg still stretched out in mid- descent. Athrun gasped when his body suddenly lurched forward and his hand instinctively reached out to grip the cold steel of the banister to steady himself.

Athrun's whole body stiffened at the sight of his fiancé standing in the middle of the hall, her face flushed with indignance as she continued to bicker with Antoine, who had now resorted to spewing French swears in a futile attempt to scare away the sudden intruder. He unwittingly winced as his ears were being bombarded with that would give anyone an immediate escort to the principal's office. His first instinct was to turn heel, dash back up; flee to the safe haven that was his room, possibly for the rest of his life or perhaps just until she left the house.

Perhaps Meyrin was more bitch-like than she knew, after all dogs were known to be able sense fear, something that he was radiating from every pore. Much to his horror, the redhead turned towards him and an impossibly large smile broke out on her face, everything before he could even blink. He saw her lips moving yet none of the words seem to register as he frantically searched for a possible escape route out of the growing nightmare that was simply put, her.

As she spoke, her hands immediately released the tiny clutch that she had gripped against her chest and sprinted forward, flinging herself towards the stupefied male that stood frozen, at the foot of the stairs. His heart almost jumped out of his throat when he saw her dash straight at him, her long red pigtails whipping about her head so violently he was surprised she didn't knock herself out.

Ok, now the glass window to his left looked breakable enough to smash through. He would free fall straight into the backyard pool and perhaps play dead till Meyrin got her lipo-ed ass out of his house. To heck with the fact that the glass wall had pretty much cost as much as a yearly paycheck.

He couldn't act fast enough to save his life.

"Gyah! G-G-Get off me!"

"Athrun darling, we haven't seen in such a long time. I've missed you everyday!"

"And I sure as hell didn't, now get off!" Athrun grabbed onto Meyrin's wrists, desperately trying to unlatch her vice- like grip from around his waist, his torso rearing further and further back in an effort to avoid the sloppy kiss that his fiancé from hell was trying to plant on his lips.

"My lord, anymore and you'll..."

Antoine was cut off when a loud thud echoed throughout the grand hall, followed by a few loud curses, spewed by a very angry lord in pain.

"Darling! Are you okay? Are you in pain? Do you need me to send for the servants? The doctors? Where are you hurting? Oh, I'm so sorry! Really, I am!"

"Damn it. Shut up, Meyrin. I'm fine." Athrun moaned, forcing himself up into an upright position against the steel of the banister, ignoring the stinging pain that immediately jolted along his back. He was obviously NOT fine.

"No, you're not okay. Come sweetheart, let me take you to the doctor's to examine your back."

She stubbornly stated, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, oblivious to the fresh pain that gripped him.

"You can't stand? Here, let me help you." She cooed, looping an arm around his waist.

Athrun was painfully aware of the fact that the vixen was seizing the chance to stroke his chest, trailing her fingers slowly along the contours of his well- defined abs. It made him want to puke and yet, he could do nothing. A slight movement of his arms sent new shocks of pain shooting through him. Fortunately, Antoine had long since left the scene of the ongoing crime; else he'd probably die from the utter humiliation.

He heard Meyrin wheeze slightly, already exhausted from the little exertion. She struggled a bit, stumbling a few steps forward, half- dragging his body along the polished floor, elevating his pain

to a higher level.

An ominous clack rang out and all of a sudden, Meyrin's body pitched forward…and brought him along with her, the marbled floors rushing up all too rapidly towards his face

Athrun refused to think any further. After that second fall, he had spent weeks cooped up in the confines of a hospital ward, lying in bed from dawn till dusk with neck and back braces, recuperating.

And after that, his doctor had out rightly prohibited him from leaving the house for another week or so, in case he took another fall when his movement was crippled. That would probably leave him handicapped for life.

If he had thought those were bad, Athrun was devastated when the culprit of all evil – Meyrin, had spent hours on end sitting by him, cooing sweet nothings in his ear and molesting him whenever she had the opportunity. Athrun had felt thoroughly defiled. Pleading with his father to send her back had also fallen on deaf years.

Back then, he had wanted nothing more than to cry in despair for his pitiful life.

Flinging the bedcovers back, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom to wash up. Easing into a pale beige twill shirt jacket and black tuxedo trousers, Athrun drew the dark velvet drapes back and sunlight flooded into the room, throwing it into a brilliant shade of golden.

Outside, the sky was a clear stretch of cerulean, speckled lightly with tufts of white clouds that drifted along aimlessly in the wind. The row of arecaceae trees that lined the frontal walls of the mansion swayed rhythmically as the breeze ruffled the lobed leaves that sprouted from the head of the tree. Athrun slid apart the sliding panes of glass that opened out to his bedroom patio, the curtains billowing out gently as a sudden breeze caught between its edges.

A rather spacious platform that protruded out from the west wing of the mansion, it bestowed a picturesque aerial view of the ocean. This was especially so during the mid day, when the rays of the sun hit it head on and the waters sparkled as if millions of diamonds had been scattered all over its azure surface, gentle waves tumbling over one another ceaselessly at the shore.

There was a single miniature tea table carved from the finest maple wood that was used for the Athrun's occasional sudden urges to spend the afternoon sipping tea and basking in the warm glow of the sun. At the far left, a mini golf course stretched across the length of the patio, its edges lined with small ornamental rocks of varying shades of grey and brown.

Two oak lounge chairs sat side by side nearer to the edge, a small translucent table sandwiched between them. The patio was bordered off with an intricately carved Victorian design gate grille that stretched the whole length of its sides, an investment that had burned a hole in Athrun's pocket for a short while.

The melodious twitter of a songbird sang out as Athrun stepped out onto the platform, the petite form of a scarlet tanager perched on the grille, its plumage a brilliant crimson red. The bird's head cocked inquisitively at him before it spread its black wings and disappeared into the shadow of the trees.

Athrun took a few deep breaths, his eyes flickering shut. A light wind drifted past his face. The salty flavour tickled his nostrils when he breathed in deeply; and he loved it. How long had it been since he moved to this mansion? The daily hustle and bustle of the working life had continuously grated on his nerves. Everyday, it had been just wake up, get to work, ignore the leers female employees gave him, get home and sleep. The fact that his father had become especially cold towards him after the death of his mother had not helped either.

When he had come across the property agent desperate to have the secluded retreat taken off his hands, Athrun had jumped at the offer. The residence was just what he had hoped for. He got the occasional day- length periods of leisure, the opportunity to enjoy Mother Nature in her epitome, never having to deal with shameless girls and the best of all, seclusion from the outside world. Granted, he had a personal secretary in his home office who acted as medium between him and the company but then again, he hardly even noticed her presence inside the massive house.

Turning back into the room, the various images that flickered across the wide plasma screen propped up on the wall, opposite his bed caught his attention. Athrun padded across the room and plopped down heavily onto the edge of his bed.

"… … the identity of the deceased male has just been confirmed as ex-PLANT politician, Jeremy Kane. His body, partially devoured by rodents, was discovered in an abandoned motel in Heering Mount, located just outside the city. The discovery was made at 3.05 am the previous night, where the body was found lying in the hallway of the third floor. A resident living in the apartment block next to the building had alerted the police at midnight when he had noticed a strange odour coming from the motel. "

Several snapshots flashed across the screen and Athrun could immediately feel bile rising up in his throat, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

In spite of the translucent corpse bag that encompassed the body, the extent of the damage did not go fully disguised. Sizeable chunks of flesh had seemingly disappeared from the male's torso, his clothes ripped in different areas. Stains of dried blood were partially visible at several areas. His face was pale, as if all the blood had been sucked out of him. His withering lips were slightly agape and were stilled into a 'o'. The pictures presented Kane in several different angles, most of which focused on the upper half of the body, where the most damage had been caused.

Athrun's mind swam with thoughts triggered by the murder, the pressure almost overwhelming him. He had known the man from an upper society gathering from about a year back. Back then, he had turned up with his wife, a senior officer in the ministry of advanced military education, and a daughter, an attractive redhead of 18.

Kane had been in his mid- forties, and at the peak of his career after he had successfully clinched the business deal for the sponsorship of the latest mind-sensitive equipment. The exorbitant cost that had originally come with the newest bio-technology sensory paraphernalia had been reduced to a paltry cost after the negotiations had come to an end.

Needless to say, Jeremy Kane had been close to being worshipped in the board of councilmen of PLANT, especially so since their newest working acquaintance had been renowned for his egocentricity.

His stellar position in the board had come to an abrupt conclusion when he had been discovered embezzling the funds meant for the development of the research lab in millions. However, the authorities had been powerless to do anything to him, due to his diplomatic immunity.

Following that, Kane's life had rapidly spiraled downwards. His wife, being unable to handle the sudden situation of infamy, had taken her own life. Lunamaria Kane, his lovely joy of 18, had been involved in a hit-and-run that never went solved.

Having lost almost everything in an instant, Kane had gone missing… up till now.

Sighing, he reached for the T.V. control's power button and the screen flickered black, all the while hoping to himself that Meyrin had not yet seen the news. Despite her flippant nature, she was a family girl, and the picture of her dead father might drive her over the edge. She might have tried to hide it but from time to time, he still glimpsed a flash of tortured pain and anguish rip her smile for the slightest second. It was one of the few reasons why he tolerated her presence and … affectionate…behaviour.

Pacing across the room, Athrun's gaze fell on a thick stack of papers that piled high on his dresser, soon in danger of toppling over. The latest update of the company's incoming projects that had yet to gain his approval, courtesy of the secretary downstairs.

Thumbing through the papers, Athrun was mildly surprised. He hadn't realized that the recent success of the new energy conserving technology being launched into the markets had drawn THIS much attention. Companies worldwide were now clamoring for a part of his stocks, be it a miniscule fraction.

Perhaps he should handle this now; better not let the business slide.

Snatching up a pen from the drawer, Athrun flipped open the first document and ... his body immediately thrust forward. His head whammed straight into the wall, thrumming out an incessant throb of pain. The documents went flying and the pen's tip stabbed him in the foot.

"Athrun darling! You're finally awake! Come on, let's go! There's an absolutely fantastic romance movie playing in the theatres now, and you know how much I adore romantic stuff…"

Meyrin's fingers tickled his torso teasingly, and he was utterly glad that he had yet to have breakfast.

Staring longingly at the files that scattered the carpeted floor, a defeated moan escaped his lips.

Business was important, but a pissed off fiancée, especially HIS pissed off fiancée was even scarier to stand up to. Throw a hundred scathing lawyers at him all day and he stood strong. Drop him into a pit of fire breathing dragons and he'd climb out bloodied and victorious. Babysit him with Meyrin and his insides turned to pudding and pathetic wimp.

His arms went limp as she dragged him towards the door and a hellish start of the day.


	3. III: An Overload of Sugar

**III: An Overload of Sugar**

"Stuck in manicure shop, she says. No money, she says. Come and fetch me! She says. Argh!"

Athrun whacked his hand against the hard leather of the steering wheel and immediately regretted it. The loud blare of the car's horn blasted out and it instantly earned him the "death glare" of the male driver stuck in front of him. Athrun threw him a sheepish smile before smacking a hand into his face, moaning in humiliation.

Of all the times for him to head out to the city; a place he abjured from entering as much as he could, she just HAD to call at this hour. Time: 6.20 pm + place: city = peak hours = TRAFFIC JAM. Could that idiot fiancée of his choose an even worse time to be in the city? He was willing to stake his fortune in a bet that the endless train of vehicles was long enough to stretch across the Golden Gate, from metal grilled end to metal grilled end.

She really had not a single iota of sense when it came to picking the appropriate hours, something which had the uncanny tendency for getting him into trouble. Athrun shuddered as the memory of the mortifying incident from three months back flashed through his mind once again, a nightmare that haunted his dreams even at night.

* * *

><p>"Athrun! Darling, come down here for a moment!"<p>

"What? Now? But… but..."

"Don't be stubborn. Come down here, I really need your help! Athrun!"

"Meyrin, now's not really the best time to…" An ear-splitting loud shriek broke out from the foyer of the mansion, startling him.

"Meyrin? What happened?" All coherent thoughts fled from Athrun's mind as he imagined the deep shit that he would be thrust into if a single manicured nail on her was chipped, and he fled downstairs.

More shrieks burst into earshot as soon as he took his first step into the room. "Meyrin! Are you hurt or… …maybe not."

"Athrun! We love you! Kyaaa!"

A whole congregation of fan girls had flooded the foyer, sporting "Athrun is so HAAWWTT!" T- shirts and swinging flags that had his face plastered all over them. There were even placards depicting a heavily photo-shopped, over muscled man in a hot pink thong. He had never been more ashamed of his own face.

To add injury to insult, practically the whole committee of the hired help had come out to investigate what the sudden celebration was all about. Most were either sniggering away or gawking rudely at the obscene arts. Talk about humiliating.

Athrun was rendered speechless.

"Meyrin…wha…what's this all about?" He cursed mentally about how pathetically frail his voice sounded at that moment.

"Darling!" He winced in disgust at that. "Your fan girls suddenly showed up out of nowhere and demanded to see you!"

"I…see. And… the shriek? That WAS you. Right?"

Despite what he said, he really (x infinity) didn't want to know the answer. Knowing her, it would probably be a fan snatching her custom made "Athrun" plushie (complete with voice recordings and a shiny engagement ring on its finger) away or getting a nail chipped. Or perhaps a strand of her perfectly coiffed hair had fallen out of place or…

"Did you see this? She," Meyrin pointed at one of the girls, her voice employing an accusatory tone, "has this really perfect picture of you! How come I don't have it?" She whined, her eyes imploring.

Ah yes…he had forgotten that.

Turning to confront the illegal gathering of squealing females milling around in his hallway, he cringed at how the girls seemed to be much closer to him than they had been, their obscene signs glaringly obvious.

"Okay. I need you girls to leave at once, you're really bothering…Eh?"

Numerous intense stares seemed to be riveted at something other than his face. He followed their gazes to below his face…his chest…

Athrun's face flushed a crimson red as he suddenly recalled why he hadn't wanted to come down in the first place. In his panic, he had dashed out of the bathroom and his pants were still…unhooked.

Feeling like the world's biggest moron, he hastily turned around and fumbled clumsily with the fly and belt buckle. The fact that the zipper chose exactly that moment to jam against the teeth, halfway up was not helping either. By the time he managed to triumph over it, the hushed sniggers were practically echoing throughout the hall.

A week later, when he had received his monthly issue of "The Zala Memoirs" (Proudly subscribed by Meyrin herself), he had wanted to dig a hole, tunnel to the eighteenth level of hell and just burn there.

The issue's front cover was featuring him…with his fly down. They even had the gall to strike a bolded arrow pointing to his boxers, an insanely large tagline plastered across the width of the magazine.

"Pre- order your very own, limited edition 'Zala Boxers' now! The first 5 orders will get 5 words of your own choice, ironed on onto your pair for absolutely nothing! More details on pg 3..." After he discovered one such pair being flaunted away in the kitchen, Athrun had bribed the courier to burn up every single latest issue that came his way.

A raucous slew of curses forced him out of the embarrassing memory and he realized, with a sigh of relief, that the traffic had finally let up.

* * *

><p>The boutique sat at the end of a quaint little street, at the tail of the lane just before the curve into Lorrington Avenue. The front walls of the Shoppe were coated in a pale pink hue, with numerous, gentle swirls of a lemon yellow adorning the length of the walls. The over hanging canopy was dyed a bright, candy red streaked with white.<p>

A clear, tinkling jingle resounded throughout the narrow hallway the moment Athrun pushed through the door. Striding down the hallway, he was extremely aware of the surprised and licentious leers that were sent his way, mingled with the incessant giggling of females.

Athrun cringed inwardly at the walls, too overly furnished with feminine embellishments for his tastes. Everywhere he looked, it was pink. Pink sofas, pink wallpaper, there were even pink tissue paper boxes!

The overpowering, musky aroma of lavender perfume wafted freely throughout the air, nauseating him and his eyes watered from the stinging, turpentine stench of nail polish. How did girls stand being here for more than five minutes anyway? He already felt as if the odour of Meyrin's cooking would not be half as bad as what this hellhole had to offer.

Athrun hardly noticed a skinny pair of hands creeping up around his chest, until he felt a warm puff of breath tickle his earlobe. His whole body tensed and a chill shot down his spine. Whirling around, he found himself looking down at a grinning face, an imploring look plastered across her features.

"Athy, do you mind waiting for me for a little while longer? There's this new package deal they're promoting, for a pedicure, and a new style of coiffe. Plus! They're giving out a free makeup set for a limited time only! Please? It's just a little while more!" Meyrin's fingers clenched tighter around his arms, her nails biting into his skin.

"That'll probably take about another two more hours or so…" He contemplated. To tell the truth, he was sorely tempted to pack her into the car and zoom straight home but then again…he was feeling a little hungry, and that bistro across the street did seem really inviting…

* * *

><p>Less than five minutes later, he had been shooed hurriedly across the street by a flustered fiancée, who was the whole time, squealing away excitedly about how enchanting she would look after she was done.<p>

Athrun's taste buds tingled excitedly as he watched the waitress approach his table, a plate balanced skillfully on her palm. As the female laid the dish down onto the tablecloth, she tilted her head slightly towards him, winking from under her lashes.

Much to her dismay, all he could focus on at that point was how elegantly beautiful the chocolate swirls spread over the multi- layered chiffon cake were. Giving up on her futile attempts of seduction, she stalked off to the kitchens to sulk.

A mouth- watering aroma drifted up to his nostrils, the scent of chocolate enticing him. Athrun pierced his fork through the spongy layers, scooped up a generous amount of cake and bit in.

Realization came a second too late and his mouth immediately exploded with a burst of sugary sweetness.

"Gah!"

Desperately trying to cough out the chunks of cake lodged in his throat, he started to choke on the overload of sugar. A waiter was at his side in a flash, a glass of mineral water clutched in his fist. Gulping the water down like a dehydrated man rescued from abandonment in the Sahara, Athrun forced the remnants of the cake that stubbornly refused to be coughed out, down his throat.

Between wheezing gasps of air, he jabbed furiously at the mushy lumps that was the cake and sputtered "Why is the…blegh…the cake so…cough…sweet? I almost died back there!"

"I'm really sorry sir. Please, let me replace your order."

Snatching up the dish, the flustered teen hurried off to the kitchens, barely making it though the bustle of the evening's crowd. Gulping down another large mouthful of water to wash away the saccharine flavour, Athrun settled back into the comfort of the leathery seat.

A soft "ahem" broke through his thoughts almost at once. Athrun glanced back up to see a young teenage boy grinning sheepishly down at him. He looked no older than 17, with pale, unblemished skin. Coupled with a head full of blonde hair cropped to shoulder length and a pair of mischievous amber eyes set in an attractive face, the boy looked rather effeminate.

Poor boy, he thought absent-mindedly, having to go all out with loose cargos, a straight-cut tee and a large bulging beret that shadowed his large eyes, and yet still have people malign his manhood. Ouch.

The boy spoke, his voice laced with a playful giggle, "I think you accidentally got my order. I'm not surprised though." He set a plate down on the table and Athrun immediately noticed that the untouched slice bore a disturbing resemblance to the previous nightmare of a cake.

"Both our orders are the same, except I asked for extra sugar." The boy grinned again, revealing a set of gleaming, perfect teeth.

Athrun didn't know what to make of the sudden news. So, he went with the easiest reply.

"Oh. Thanks."

"Oh yes. Did you know? You've got a bit of chocolate cream on your nose. Just there."

Athrun heard the words as clear as day and yet, for reasons unknown, his mind simply refused to process their meaning and take a course of action. All he could do was stone there in his seat, staring blankly at the stranger.

The boy giggled, and reached out a finger to swipe gently at the tip of Athrun's nose and he immediately felt his face heat up. Great. Now not only did he come close to suffocating on an overload of sugar, he had just been degraded to an adult so pathetic, a teenager had to wipe his stains away for him.

This day was not going good. It plain sucked.


	4. IV: Nadine

**IV: Nadine**

"Woah."

The girl turned to glance at the GPRS system affixed on the dashboard of her Chrysler. Yup, this was the correct address all right- Havelock Bay Street. She had been expecting an abandoned, or at least a simple non eye-catching apartmental block, something which would blend right into its surroundings like a chameleon in the wilderness. What she saw before her definitely did not fall under either of these categories.

The magnificent edifice loomed over the street, basking in all the glory of its opulent splendor. Constructed mainly out of white marble and the finest qualities of glass, the ornate infrastructure reflected sophistication in its epitome. The huge wall of mullioned glass arched up from the roof of the reception lobby and into the separate building for lodgings, glistening dazzlingly in the sun, throwing off an array of sparkles onto the other buildings across the street.

Having been awarded a five star rating within the first week it commenced operation, the Grandé Louvre was renowned worldwide for its excellent service and exquisite elegance. Designed by a team of world-acclaimed architects comprised of only Naturals, it was the pride and joy of the people. Just to be able to book a lodging there became a sought after privilege, so much so that occasionally, room bookings were put up for auction on the markets. Of course, staff were soon busily playing host to the masses of people scurrying to secure a booking there and quite a number of bookings belonged to high flying artistes of the society.

Undeniably a spectacular accomplishment, it was significant evidence that Naturals did not fall short of their Coordinator counterparts with regards to their intelligence and talent.

In other words, with all the media attention that was focused on the building alone, chances of the clandestine meeting which was to ensue in uh...the girl glanced at her watch…5 minutes, being overheard was rather high and that was a potentiality she really didn't want happening. Her prospective client had either superfluous bravado in him, or a simple death wish.

Parking her car alongside the immaculately litter-free streets, she nimbly slid in through the revolving glass panel doors.

Immediately, a gentle wisp of cold air swirled around her bare arms, pebbling her skin in goose bumps. In the background, a slow, mellow tune of a blues piece flowed smoothly out of the audio system.

Her client, a well- built, rather handsome man in his 30s was already waiting for her in his luxurious suite. As soon as she had seated herself comfortably in the plush upholstery armchair opposite him, he got down straight to business.

"I presume you are Ms. Nadine Jonas. Pleased to be making your acquaintance."

"Actually, that was just a name I casually chose for the authorities when I moved here. I prefer the moniker 'The Masked Rose'." The girl waved hand sagely in the air.

Smiling cordially, she looked him straight in the eye.

"It's a rather apt name, isn't it?"

His reply was all but patient, "Yes, yes. Now, Ms. Jona…Ms. Rose, I believe you know exactly what I expect from you. You'll find all the information I have regarding him in this file. I had my secretary compile all known information about the target, right from the moment his ugly- ass face showed up in the industrial war grounds. I don't want any more time wasted on dredging up more information than necessary. Now, I expect nothing but the best efficiency you can provide. I'll write the cheque for you once the job is done."

The girl yawned obscenely. She couldn't help it. This man might be a chunk of good looks molded together all so finely, but he was such a bore! Even her previous client had cracked a joke or two with her before jumping into the details. The man was rather insulted, but he swallowed his pride. He desperately required her services if he was to clear his debts in time. Annoying her now would not serve well for either of them.

Snatching up the thin folder, the girl rose quickly from her seat and glanced down at him. "I'll send you the cost when the deed is done, so get that cheque ready."

Turning around, she strode off into the mass of crowds, her slight form disappearing from sight. Thumbing quickly through the file, she stopped at the page bearing an A4 sized photo of the target and grinned.

"Ugly- ass my foot. You ought to look in the mirror yourself."

* * *

><p>"You can't do this to me! Where am I going to get a suitable replacement by the end of this week?"<p>

"Look, Mr. Zala. I really hate having to do this, but your fiancée is fucking driving me mad! Day in and day out, she tramples all over me, insulting my looks, insulting my clothes. She even derides the brand of coffee I drink!"

"Look Renee, I'll talk to her. I'll even double your pay! So please reconsider this. You don't want to make a hasty decision that you'll regret for life right?"

The door to the office slammed wide open, and the culprit of all evils strutted in, her Manolo Blahniks clacking loudly against the ashwood floor. Athrun distinctively heard Renee moan when she saw Meyrin approaching.

"Renee, I thought I told you to get me a cup of cappuccino latte, go easy on the sugar. Well, where is it? Oh hello darling, are you free later? How about going out for a show and a late night supper, just the two of us?" Meyrin clung tightly onto his arm and batted her extended eyelashes at him.

Before Athrun could say anything, Renee screamed in frustration and stomped out of the room.

Great.

* * *

><p>"Kira, this really isn't the best time to hear you sing the praises of your oh- so- beautiful- and- perfect Lacus. I need a new secretary, ASAP. Wait, scratch that, make it PRONTO. I only have four days left till the end of the week, which spells the triennial gala night at my place. A million invites need to be sent out, caterers need to be booked, decorations need to be arranged. I can't possibly handle all these by myself! And did you know that the million invites don't mail themselves?"<p>

"Ath, buddy, calm down. I'll post an advert for you on the net and papers hey? Lacus can also help with the publicity on TV. "

"Good. I'll email the required criteria for a potential candidate to you in an hour's time. Thanks, Kira."

"No sweat."

A monotonous beep sounded on the other end of the receiver and Athrun slid the phone back into its stand. Sliding smoothly into the comfy plush of the armchair, he flexed his fingers and upon hearing the loud crack of his knuckles, he grinned satisfactorily to himself. Within seconds, Athrun's fingers were flying across the keyboard, stating in clear, minute details what he required in an employee.

The impossibly long list was soon completed and mailed over to Kira's place, all in half an hour. Five minutes later, the incessant ringing of the phone shattered Athrun's concentration just as he was about to get down to setting the template for the invitations.

"Ath, hey. Look, your required stats for the newbie is simply too demanding. Where are you going to find anybody who is quick with mental calculations, speaks fluently in at least 3 different languages, IT savvy, gregarious, has a master in law AND business administration, is up to date with the latest fashion lines and jargon and gifted with a body to die for? There are so many more I don't even have the patience to list out."

"Kira, you really don't have any idea how much this event means to me. Everything, down to the last itty bitty detail has to be 100 percent perfect. The slightest botch up would spell the failure of the gala as headline news. By the way, the requirement list is perfectly viable. As head secretary of Zala Industries, she has to the crème de la crème of the working class."

"Still, the term about being able to do the waltz, contemporary and the, this is ridiculous, the cha cha? What do you need the cha cha for?"

"K, you have no idea how embarrassed I was when the dance soiree the Mayor last organized turned out to be an impromptu lucky- draw dance style event. When the chosen style turned out to be the cha cha and the tango, I was the only idiot standing at the refreshment table. It's like everyone else got the memo about the whole damned set-up!"

"Ok ok, I get it. I'll get back to you."

"Asap. No, make it immediately. Thanks."

Athrun sank wearily back into the upholstery of the armchair, his bangs falling messily over his eyes. Fingering the long strands wordlessly, a sigh escaped his lips. He needed to get these trimmed, but that would have to come after the secretary crisis.

An earsplitting crash rang out from downstairs, breaking his train of thought and concentration. Athrun moaned, an anguished wail echoing throughout the four walls enclosing the lavish study. A short moment later, one of the middle aged maids skidded into the room, a thin sheen of sweat across her face, and almost slipped on the polished parquet floor.

"My lord, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I…"

"Beth, calm down. What's going on? That sound I heard, did something break? "

"My lord, Ms. Kane wanted to help with the unloading of the packages and…"

At this, Athrun steeled himself to prepare of the worst news that could possibly happen in his already, chaotic afternoon. Meyrin helping out with the chores of the household was never good news. He had at least learnt that much the last time she had set the venison on fire when she had turned the gas knob in the wrong direction, raising the gas output to a dangerously high level. Of course, Antonio had since then banned her from entering his kitchen, even if all she wanted was a glass of water.

"Ok, what did she ruin this time?"

Beth fiddled with her fingers, "Oh, just the quartz crystal bowl."

Beth never saw what happened in the next second. One moment, Athrun was standing there, his body as stiff as a rock, shock instilled across his handsome features; and in the next, it seemed as though he had teleported out of the room. All she heard from down in the foyer was the furious yells of a very angry boss berating his servants for letting his fiancé within a 20m radius of his valuable purchases. The profanities that spewed incessantly out of his mouth were enough to make even a sailor red, which was a heavy understatement as to how the poor lady was feeling now.

The melodious thrill of an alarm rang out from behind her and Beth's heart almost leapt to her throat.

"Hello, Mr. Athrun Zala here. I'm busy at this very moment, so kindly leave a message till I can get back to you. If this caller is a member of my damned fan club, kindly end this call now and never bother me again lest I decide to sue the pants off you. Thank you."

Beth recognized Master Yamato's voice almost immediately and an audible sigh of relief escaped her lips. If Master Zala was hoarded by fan calls now, she didn't know how he would react, but she really didn't want to see a poor girl's life reduced to impoverishment.

"Hey, Ath, buddy. You wouldn't believe this… this incredible streak of good luck. 5 minutes after I had uploaded your secretary advert onto the net, an application was sent in. Her achievements may not fit the bill of your dream employee 100 percent, but she comes really close to it. I've just sent you a copy of her particulars and résumé. Take a look at it and send me a reply will you?

Ps. Lacus and I may not be able to attend your gala next week. She wants to check out the Vin Exquis exhibition on Junius 7 come Sunday. And you know that I can't resist her. Every time she looks at me with those utterly adorable baby blue eyes and picturesque smile, I just…lose myself. Y'now what I mean right, bud? Anyway, sorry. "


	5. V: Pheromones at Work

Finally! The fifth chapter! And before the June hols are over too. Anyway, there's a bit of tease in this chapter, though I can't deny that I really enjoyed writing this. R x R please!

Faie.

**V: Pheromones at Work**

Athrun threw what seemed like the hundredth glance in a single hour at the other end of his study. There, seated primly behind a large mahogany escritoire, sat a lone female. From his vantage point, everything in that area and her, especially her, seemed to be in glow-like-a-goddess mode, the warm light streaming in through the glass wall aside her clearly defining the planes of her body. It was as if every contour and fine line of her body had been drawn out and highlighted by the sun's rays.

Framed about her face and curled lightly outwards just above her shoulders, her blonde hair threw off the sunlight like a magnificent ball of fire. The girl's head was tilted slightly downwards as she perused over the spread of documents that lay before her, a pair of red tortoise-shell reading glasses perched firmly on the bridge of her nose. From time to time, her tongue darted out to lick the rims of her lips, the wet moisture glistening in the sunlight.

Each time she tilted her head a slight lower, strands of gold would gently slide along the outer shell of her ear, tickling the smooth skin of her cheeks. Her hand would then come up to tuck it back behind and Athrun was rather surprised as to how just that tiny, insignificant movement could result in the sudden stagnancy of his brain.

Cagalli Yula Athha.

His dues ex machina, his one shining ray of hope along an otherwise dark road fraught with perils.

Athrun could feel his own lips turning dry as he watched her every movement, further emphasized on by the golden light pouring in. He let his gaze drift over the outline of her small form, from the rounded bob of her golden head to the thin, trim form of her stomach that disappeared down behind the edges of the escritoire. He felt a small lump in his throat as his mind wandered to the notion of how she would look like under the prim exterior of her maroon bardot blouse. Would her skin be as milky and smooth as that of a newborn babe? Or would it be dyed in a sun-kissed tan…

Athrun mentally slapped himself for that thought. Good God. He was behaving exactly like a childish adolescent. It was shaming.

Forcing his gaze back at the mess of papers and newspaper clippings scattered over his desk, Athrun tried to gather his concentration back together, an effort that proved futile when his mind immediately started swimming from the overload of information. Swiveling his chair to face his computer, he opened up his mail and tried to draft a letter to the catering service instead. He failed pitifully at that too, when he caught himself trying to sneak a glance at the figure over the rim of the screen.

Just one last look, his body reasoned, just one last peek before it agreed to get down to work…serious work. Not desperately-trying-to-peek-over-the-computer-screen-to-stare-at-a-girl-like-a-horny-teenager work. Athrun gave in to his member readily enough, almost immediately even. Just one small peek wouldn't hurt anyone right? He slowly craned his neck sideways, his eyes straining to see around the screen's edge. C'mon, just a bit more, a…bit…more…the sight that greeted him wasn't anything like what he had expected.

The palest, softest shade of green he had ever laid his eyes on. Athrun blinked a few times, lifting his reading glasses and rubbing his eyes. Opening them again, he realized the scenery had not yet changed. Odd, he thought. Had too much thinking short-circuited his ability of sight? That's when he noticed something. Below the expanse of pale green were two long, thin legs and the fairest skin he had ever the chance to appreciate.

Comprehension dawned upon him a moment too late, and the embarrassed male looked up to find his new secretary staring down at him, a peculiar look crossing her face.

"Mr. Zala. Are you feeling unwell in any way? You've been alternatively switching between staring at the window and mumbling to yourself. Shall I call for the doctor?"

His first thought was that "She'd been watching me too!" and that sent an inexplicable tingle seeping South. Damn.

When she gave him a queer look, Athrun froze for a second, and then relief flooded through him when he realized that she was not privy to his childish fantasies.

"Uh…yeah. I'm fine. I was just thinking about something." He noticed the thick folder clutched in her hands and glanced back up at her. "Are those the spreadsheets for the Mirageá Corp? The ones regarding the stock finances."

The female glanced back down at the file and placed it down on his desk, her fingers flipping it open and through the thick stack of papers skillfully. Unable to help itself, Athrun's imagination started to run wild again. He noted the way her slender fingers fanned through the papers, the movement almost a blur. If her fingers were already so nimble flipping through sheets of paper, he could just imagine the pleasurable sensations she could give him trailing them along his…

"Mr. Zala. Are you listening?"

Damn. What the hell was wrong with him? Athrun wanted to hit himself. "Yeah, I am. Go on. What about the finances?"

His secretary stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. "Finances? Are we looking at the same thing?" She tapped her finger impatiently on the table, her face emotionless except for a hint of irritation marring her brows.

Athrun followed her finger towards the spreadsheet that lay before his eyes, a spreadsheet that depicted a blueprint of some sort. It took him a full ten seconds before he realized that it was the updated layout for the decorations of the foyer, a layout that he himself had designed _not an hour earlier_.

Athrun could feel the heat of embarrassment searing at his cheeks as he pretended to study the blueprint, with a desperate hope that she could quickly direct her attention elsewhere instead of staring at him. He was all too aware of the fact that his secretary had used all of that ten seconds, down to the last microsecond, to question his abilities as the CEO of Zala Corps. Mentally of course. He didn't think he would be able to rein in his humiliation if she had doubted him verbally. And as strained as his mind already was, he'd probably do something stupid. Something bordering on the lines of, say, firing her on her second day of work. He would hate himself enough to last for a lifetime and more.

A few more moments of mind-ringing humiliation continued, before he finally heard her sigh. "Ok, let's see. I just want to confirm a few more things before I leave you be. This area here in particular, the East wing; I figured that with all the absence of decorations, we could align flower pots along the wall, right up to the corner."

Athrun tapped the corner of his chin meaningfully as he considered the suggestion. "Eh. I had initially figured that I could have left that area there empty for dances, but coming to think of it, it would be rather barren. Ok. Fine. What flowers do you suggest we use?"

Cagalli twirled a pen between her fingers as she pondered a bit, and said "Do you mind giving me a tour of the area before I make a decision? I want to consider the different shades of colours that the walls are painted in."

"Come with me." Athrun slid neatly out from behind his desk and led her towards a second door at the West corner of his study. Before she departed the room, Cagalli snatched up the folder open on his desk and scurried after him.

* * *

><p>The foyer and main hall was in pretty much a state of chaos. Cagalli could already hear the beginnings of a cacophony of sounds, ranging from the loud, impatient bark of orders to the frantic squeals of the chamber maids, even before she had stepped onto the landing to the main stairs, and she was still a good 50m away from the designated ballroom. Upon arrival, the noise had grown to an almost deafening level.<p>

Flooding the large hall, from corner to corner and filling every nook and cranny there was, delivery men wheeling huge craters of decorations and other equipment came and left. The wheels of their carts squeaked in protest as they made sudden turns to avoid crashing into the scurrying servants. The huge oak doors of his manor hardly had a moment of stillness as horde after horde of people scrambled in and out again, carrying and depositing large parcels on his doorstep. These were immediately transported away by a servant or two, towards their designated placement spots.

Laborers scaled up towering ladders propped up against the walls as they struggled to affix the candelabras above the frames of the hallways. Numerous lengths of cloth were tied slightly higher, just along the frieze carved in the ceiling. Maids and servants bustled about the hall, directing the placements of the orchestral stands and seats, attending to the workmen or creating a ruckus just by standing there dumbly and obstructing the movements of others.

Cagalli chuckled, the sound hardly audible over the pandemonium that reigned just below them. "You have too many servants, do you know that?" Athrun just sighed, as he moved along the stretch of hallway, his hand trailing slowly over the gilt handiwork of the banister. "Perfectly. And yet I can never seem to find a single available maid at times. Especially when my spendthrift fiancée returns from yet another one of her shopping sprees."

"She loves shopping eh? Not surprising, considering your state of wealth." "Yes but, with the gala coming up in two days time, she seems to be most haunted by the illusion that her wardrobe's not flashy enough. So off she goes on yet another one of her shopping adventures to discover the many wonders that fashion and shopping can bestow upon one's physical and emotional pursuit of beauty. She claims it's her very own stress reliever. Not that she has experienced any before though. Meyrin's so pampered in her shopping that she can list out all the world-acclaimed fashion designers from France all the way to the US. She has done it before, and in alphabetical order too." At this, Athrun slanted a gaze towards Cagalli, his mouth quirking up at one corner. "She's the one who had thrown all that nonsense at me. I'm just the messenger."

Cagalli snorted in a rather unfeminine manner, but Athrun noticed her body trembling ever so slightly and he couldn't help himself. He grinned widely. And at that split second, she felt an odd sensation poke at her mind, as she watched that grin spread across his face, lighting up his visage. Her throat felt inexplicably dry as she stared at his emerald eyes crinkling up at the corners, a growing spark of humor dancing within the green.

Forcing herself to turn away, she took the lead, walking awkwardly towards the staircase. "Come on. We haven't all day to joke around. The flowers aren't going to magically choose themselves."

Without saying another word, Athrun followed her silently, his eyes flying over the scene flooding the area downstairs. And for some reason, Cagalli felt rather annoyed. Was he really going to listen to her and shut up? That easily?

She turned to step down the carpeted stairs and Cagalli turned her head an infinitesimal degree towards her right, but just enough to catch the expression on his face. There was still a hint of a smile on his lips, but his eyes were no longer laughing as before.

Once again, the odd sensation poked at the recesses of her mind.

The walls of the East wing were coated in a dark shade of navy blue of almost the same intensity as Athrun's hair. The pair walked towards the wall at the far left of the symposium-turned-temporary-ballroom and stood there. They stared at it in utter silence. All around them, the committee of help scurried about like frantic ants, water from their mop buckets sloshing out on the linoleum floor, nails in their boxes rattling about in their arms.

Cagalli stepped closer and inspected the blue more closely, her fingers sliding out to trail along the perfect paint job. Flipping open the folder she clutched in her hand, she opened out to a single page where pieces of small square paper of wildly differing shades were tucked neatly into the pocket. One by one, she positioned the paper up against the wall, her eyes scanning from the blue and back to the coloured paper.

"Comparing colours? Come on, let me help. You probably have a hundred over different shades in that pocket. By the time you're done, the gala will be over." Athrun reached down and grabbed a small stack of square-cut sheets.

Cagalli did not say anything. In fact, she couldn't. Her hand was frozen in mid-reach to her folder on the floor, and so was her mind. When Athrun had reached over to grab at her file, so had she. And the second the back of his hand had brushed lightly against her index finger, a strangely pleasant tingle had tickled down her spine.

Withdrawing her hand back to her chest, she refused to allow herself to think anymore about the weird feelings she had been experiencing the whole day. She'd been watching him instead of the screen; listening to him instead of her own side of the phone, and more than once she had hoped it was a joint line so that she could eavesdrop and hear his voice. She was already losing it, and only on the second day.

Freaked, she brushed off her uncertainty by using the logic of static as an excuse. After all, that must have been it. It wasn't rare for some people to have an overpowering charge of static electricity in their bodies. Yeah. Nothing else, just some static playing tricks on her frazzled nerves.

The pair spent the next two and a half hours discussing the use of colours before finally deciding they wanted a plant with flowers of peach, perhaps pink, petals. Something which would look refreshing yet elegant at the same time. Athrun looked up from the file on the glass cocktail table and asked, "Well, do you have any more suggestions that we could use?"

"Let's see", Cagalli slid her finger down the list of flower species that they had listed out, potential candidates for the ornamental displays. She lounged back against the settee, her hand clasped over her forehead as if she had a headache. "Not really. I can't think of any more. Perhaps we could just do a mix display of white roses with pale pink carnations."

Athrun considered it for a few moments, before continuing. "The flowers of the rose and carnation are almost of the same size. Won't that look rather…odd? Besides, in ornamental display use, the leaves of the two said plants are mostly trimmed off. Green would look good framing the flowers against the wall."

Cagalli wanted to scream in frustration. "Yes but, what choice do we have? Perhaps we should scrap this whole darned idea and pretend it never existed!"

Athrun stared at her. "You want to give up? Now?"

Cagalli didn't reply, but pulled her knees up onto the settee and hugged them tightly, her pretty face twisted into a sulk.

The man sighed, got up from his seat opposite her and walked off, waving the folder in one hand. "Perhaps we should just call it a day. Go get some rest, and we'll discuss this again tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Ps: Don't want to let you guys down but…chapter 6 may take a while to get on the net. After the hols are over, I really have to get down to studying. After all, important year for me.<p>

I'll try my best for fanfic though! See you in chapter 6!

Man…this chapter is unexpectedly loooooooong…

Character Chat Corner! Part III!

Meyrin: Hey! How come I don't have a part in this?

Faie: You were out shopping. What was I supposed to do? Talk about the fancy and glittery dresses you bought? About the bejeweled Cinderella slippers you tried to, ahem, _force_...cough cough…your foot in?

Meyrin: There's a lot of story in that y'now! Like how the beautiful, fairy-tale slipper led me to my _Prince Charming – Athrun._ Lovely, horse-drawn carriages at my doorstep…then my dress accidentally tears between the carriage door and the gold gilt paneling. And Athrun, the chivalrous knight that he is, would then lift me out of my carriage and carry me princess style, all the way back to the palace to get married.

Athrun: Faie, let's get outta here before my ears corrode.

Faie: Agreed.

Meyrin: And then we would have five absolutely beautiful children. Our house would be made out of only the finest diamond and silver that money can buy… and…hey! Don't go AWOL on me! Athrun! Come back! I still want my Snow-White's true love first kiss!


	6. VI: Guns & Crude Jokes

Chapter 6 is out! Enjoy!

Faie – Paul.

**VI: Guns & Crude Jokes**

She lounged back into the cold leather of the seat, her eyes scanning the lonely stretch of street pavements alongside her vehicle. Above the hood of her car, a streetlamp flickered, flashing dark shadows onto the pavement, horribly distorted by the pitiful upkeep of the scarce greenery along the sidewalks. The soft rustling sounds of mice scrambling along the crevices of the concrete shattered the chilly silence of the night. To her right, a sudden gust of wind swept up a small cluster of dried leaves, dragging it in a small whirlwind along the road before scattering them loosely onto a lone puddle of dirt water.

For as far as the eyes could see, both roads were empty and gloomy, and then her eyes caught sight of a single faint light emanating from an apothecary at the street corner. The girl strained her eyes slightly, trying to make out any form of movements inside the small establishment. A customer checking out … an assistant shuffling along the aisles … anything.

Just as she was about to take off down the street in search for a safer area, luck occurred. Inside the apothecary, the lights flickered a few times before extinguishing completely, and a single man stepped out, the welcoming bells tinkling loudly in the dead of the night. The girl watched silently as the man clutched his coat tighter about him, his hair ruffling about in the chilly midnight wind. He glanced at his wristwatch once, before turning onto the next street and disappeared from sight altogether. Perfect.

Sliding smoothly out of her vehicle, she locked its doors and proceeded to head for the nearest public telephone booth, a cramped box with a creaking door and walls peeling cheap paint. Once inside, she dropped a shiny penny into its rusty coin slot and tugged the phone from its hook, for it was slightly stuck. Then she took out her own compact mobile from her coat pocket.

Flipping it open, the light from its small screen tinting the glass panels encompassing her in a sickly, yellowish tinge, she quickly scrolled though her contact book in its built-in memory. She paused the blue cursor when it reached "D"; and started pressing the small, protruding buttons on the public phone. After double-checking the number sequence, she clicked "dial". A few low beeps rang out in her ear, followed by a series of random tinkling notes of a piano, before the line was finally connected to its destination.

"Hallow?" The man's voice was thick with a heavy Italian accent, resulting in a rather nasal intonation. The girl did not reply. Instead, she slid her fingers along the keypad of the phone and keyed in a few more numbers, the shrill beeps resonating loudly in the earpiece. Silence ensued between them for a few moments, before she heard a low grunt and a raspy muttering of voices in the background. Loud, throaty laughter rang out, and the Italian voice spoke again, the sound of his voice slightly distanced from the mouthpiece this time.

"Bitch wants to speak ter Doc. Pass the phone will ya? I gotta chit waiting for me ter mess her up her good."

More laughter. She heard the soft whistling of air as the phone was presumably flung across the room, and then the loud stomping of boots on noisy, clattering steel. "Doc. Yers." "Thanks. Close the door on your way out, will you? Private call." "That's gonna cost yer, y'now." But the girl clearly heard the solid thunk of wood hitting metal, and then a few muffled coughs before a familiar voice broke through the earpiece.

"Hey there. I assume that's my favourite customer?" Finally. "Hey yerself, Doc. What kinda lousy help yer got yer lousy ass this time? And answer quick. I gotta rake waiting for me ter mess him up good."

A friendly choke of laughter rumbled in her ear, one that warmed her heart up faster than the mid-summer's sun. "I see that you have met the new dude."

"Italian crack with a nasal voice? Yeah, that's him. Where did you get him anyway? The orphanage for rude scums of the Earth?"

"Picked him off the jetty almost a week ago, scrounging about in a forgotten lady's purse. The guy was all too willing to lend an extra hand around my humble abode for a roof over his head, and liquor in his belly. He lives up to his word too, when he's not drinking himself nuts, or picking up and screwing chits half his age."

The girl's grip around her phone tightened painfully. Men like him were the worst scoundrels to have ever set foot on this Earth. Damn. If she ever got the chance, she would love nothing more than to stick her Beretta in his ear and blow his brains out the other.

"Anyway, Rosé, what do you need this time? A couple o' magazines for yer collection? Or a sample of my new models?"

"Just the usual, Doc. My B's running low on hollow points. Oh, and I need a new silencer for my Glock. Some mangy cat got to it when it dropped from my bag and disappeared behind an alley before I could get it back, silencer and all. By the way, what were the new models you mentioned about?"

"Ah those. My cuz just had a new model shipped in from someplace in Bulgaria. The Arsenal P-M02. A 15-round D.A. semi-auto. It's a tad bulky in the fist, but shorter than your BM 1951. A slick 180 from tip to tip."

"Hmm. What else?"

"Well, there's one Lahti L-35, recoil operated, locked breech baby with a bolt accelerator and …"

"Bolt accelerator?"

"That gives your bolt a power-up in energy in extreme cold or dirt conditions. And as I was saying, before you interrupted me darling ..." "Oh, sorry." "Don't interrupt, you little nut." "Fine, fine, you …chestnut."

A long pause ensued, and the girl felt a minor twinge of guilt poke at her conscience. Had Doc hung up on her?

"Arrogant chit. I ought to send you to the gallows for this. Let the crows pick at your decomposing corpse before throwing you to the wolves."

She grinned. Guess not. Doc simply loved her too much to do so, though his threats could be so painfully archaic at times it was funny just to listen to them.

"I'm continuing now, so don't you dare interrupt me again before I decide to mail you a crateful of cherry bombs for your birthday, topped with candles and all those crap." Doc took a deep breath at this part. "I also had a few rather old models of a Winchester 1873 sent in the previous week, complete with .38-40 cartridges. A long-range shooter, this one. Ancient, but good enough to blow someone's brains out."

The girl's memory immediately flashed over to the voice of the Italian guy from before, and a smirk escaped her lips. Now there was a good practice target. If one was needed. Humble as she was, she had to admit that she had a pretty good aim and almost perfect shot. Her grin stretched wider. Maybe she needed a new incognito, something like … the sexy, lethal flower from hell. But then again, she probably was already that.

"Hey, Rosé. So what cha think? Wanna try out the new lovelies?"

"Let's see. I wouldn't mind giving a try-out shot for all three. Doc, any human crap at your place you want to dispose off? For example, the Italian brat from before. That's considered a very strong hint by the way."

Doc laughed once more, his voice wheezing a little. No doubt from all the cigarillos that he loved so much. "No can do sweetheart. He's a good teller of jokes, he is. Keeps everyone's spirits up for the most of the day. When he's not doing what I mentioned before, of course. Anyway, love, when I want him gone, I'll tell you myself."

"No problemo. You know where to reach me. So … when can I have my goods?"

"I'll give you a call when I've compiled the lot of them. Probably … give or take about three days. Bye, sweetheart."

"Bye, Doc."

She hooked the bulky phone back onto its receiver, slapped her mobile close and tucked it back into her pocket. Flipping open the loose lock of the cubicle, she made her way back into her Chrysler. Each step clacked the heels of her leather boots loudly against the chipped concrete, and cold, biting wind stung her cheeks. She slid her hands deeper into the warm pockets of her overcoat, removing them only to unlock her vehicle and open its door. Shifting the gears back into action, she took off towards the nearest Starbucks for a celebratory latte.

* * *

><p>Okay, I know I had said that chapter 6 would take a while to come up, but, man! Was I on a roll! This chapter is pretty short though – 4 pages including credits. But I took quite a while to find a suitable website which could provide me with the suitable info and patois for guns…<p>

So compliments and many thanks to .!

Wiki helped me too though, especially at the part about the Winchester.

RxR please!

Faie – Paul.


	7. VII: A Peachy Business

**VII: A Peachy Business**

Cagalli stared blankly at the computer screen, and a screen full of words stared back at her, illuminated by the glaring glow of the screen. Try as she might, her brain seemed far from capable of assimilating the chock-load of information presented before her. She scratched her head a bit, wincing when her fingers came out oily.

Sighing, she tried to remember the last time she actually had a bath bath, one conducted at her own sweet pace, with sweet-smelling, foamy bubbles tickling her soft skin. Definitely not one of those frantic splashes of water on her body before she was already rushing to towel herself dry. She couldn't.

Beside her, the seconds hand on the birch mantle clock ticked on, the sound reminding her of the cruel fact that time waited for no one. She moaned. At this rate, she was never going to make the deadline. She had been sitting at her office desk for almost four straight hours now, wracking her brains till it threatened to explode, and yet inspiration still continued to elude her. Three cups of coffee had proved only to be a waste of her valuable time by rushing to the toilet, and taking a stroll in the gardens outside to ease her nerves had only given her an ant bite on the ankle. This wasn't even that hard a task to complete!

The fact that she was all alone in this didn't help her mood either. Alone in this huge room that was probably large enough to stuff her own apartment in it, alone since she had recklessly lost her temper and yelled at her employer. The poor man had only been trying to offer her his suggestions!

She hoped as hell that he wouldn't take her sudden outburst too seriously, nurture it into a grudge, and fire her first chance he got after the gala. Before it ended was definitely out of the question, since he had out rightly pleaded … Well, his tone did suggest something bordering along those lines … with her to work with him on this. The man was so desperate, he practically had an aura haloed around him.

Cagalli fiddled with the pen in her hand, as she swiveled her chair around and around...and then a sudden thought hit her. Wasn't there that flower… the one that her mother had loved…? Crap, what was its name again? She scanned through the earlier memories in her mind, but all her efforts culminated in were that its name began with a 'K'. She briefly considered surfing the net for it, but quickly abandoned that notion when she figured that that clue alone would probably garner too much information to sift through by herself.

Accursed employer.

Sliding neatly off her seat, she quickly crossed the room in brisk strides; a beeline dash towards the towering library of books that stretched from one end of the wall to the other. Zala was definitely a bookworm, she thought, as she slid her fingers along the length of one of the lower shelves, the smooth leather spines cool to the touch. The titles there ranged from the "General Politics of the World" to "The Dummy's Guide to Cha-Cha-ing."

Cagalli had to choke back a laugh. Cha-Cha-ing? Was that even a legitimate word? And what sort of business did one of the leading czars of PLANT have with Cha-Cha, she snickered here, ing? She could just picture him in a tight dark shirt V-slitted down his chest and a pair of black dance pants that flared out just at the ankles, embellished in a layer of minute, sparkly sequins. His dark hair slicked back... sweat glistening in the bright glow of the lights overhead. She got as far as imagining him thrusting his chest out and rotating his butt, before she broke out in a series of giggles. Oh God, that memory alone was priceless.

Shaking off her laughter, she went back to studying the books, before realizing that there was a long list taped to the polished surface of the teak – an inventory of each shelves' layer. Cagalli winced when she noticed the encyclopedias were situated at one of the topmost levels. Trudging rather grudgingly towards the steel ladder propped up at the corner of the wall, she tugged the two steel layers apart and wheeled the oversized 'A' towards the end of the shelf. Once she had stabilized it, she made her ascent, higher and higher some more.

She spotted the coveted volume on the third highest shelf, its gold title print illuminated by the warm glow of the morning sun. The encyclopedia labeled "K". A thick volume by itself, it was sitting snugly at the other end of the bookshelf. At the other end of the bookshelf! She groaned loudly and turned her head around to glance down. Damn, but she was already so high up. No way she was going to climb down, push the ladder then make her way up again.

A sudden thought struck her, and she pondered over it for a while. Ah, heck with it!

Gripping the teak panel partition firmly, she pulled. With a sudden, but slight jerk, the ladder slid smoothly across the marble floor. Perfect. Her heart beating wildly with each tug, she gingerly moved the contraption along the shelves, hoping the wheels wouldn't suddenly twist in the wrong direction and jam there. Any sudden stall might send her flying off the rungs and into the glass wall. It wouldn't be a pretty sight, to say the least. Nope, one Cagalli stabbed with a barrage of shattered glass wouldn't look very pretty at all.

It was pretty amazing how one's heart could be able to take all that stress of imminent death, but Cagalli's managed rather well. And in all the panic and fear welling up inside of her, she hardly noticed that she had already made it to the other end without any screw ups. She exhaled a noisy sigh of relief as she stilled the wheels to a stop.

The book slid out of its spot between its 'J' and 'L' counterparts easily, much to her relief. Balancing herself precariously on the flat steel rung, her body leaning lightly against the ladder's fulcrum, she flipped open the thick volume to its content page and began her laborious search.

* * *

><p>The heavy doors to the study swung open and Zala strode in, his face buried in a pile of manuscripts. Glancing up from his reading, his eyes widened in shocked horror as he took in the sight before him. She must be perched at least two storeys high!<p>

"Attha, what are you doing? Get down."

"What? Oh hey, Mr. Zala. Sorry. I wanted to do a bit of research and your encyclopedias were a good place to start with. You don't mind, do you?"

"No I don't, you reckless nut. Get down here before you break a bone or two. Need I remind you that a secretary lying in the hospital during her convalescence is of absolutely no use to me?"

"Ok, ok. I get you. Give me a minute." Clutching the volume tightly to her chest, Cagalli gingerly reached a foot down, her toes wiggling about in mid-air for the lower rung. Biting her lip, she tilted her gaze downwards, sighing in relief as she felt her foot touch steel, the coldness of the metal permeating the thin soles of her modest Keds. Feeling slightly more assured, Cagalli let her body drop slowly down onto the rung, her hands grasping the metal frame tightly. Her left foot went down again and she felt the twinge of cold once more as her foot tippy-toed on cold metal.

Athrun watched in growing anxiety as he watched the small form of his secretary slowly descend down the ladder, rung by rung, at a slow, yet seemingly, safe pace. He felt his worries allay just a tiny bit as she reached the midpoint of the ladder. Standing there patiently, he waited as her foot reached down once again, her toes just brushing the small platform of the rung. She shuffled her Ked along the bar as she prepared to lower her body down again, when the wheels of the ladder slid ever so slightly along the polished marble floors.

Cagalli's breath caught as she felt the sudden slide of the ladder's wheels, and in her panic, her arms flailed to grip the metal frame. Now unfettered from her hold, the encyclopedia slipped and spiraled downwards.

Gasping, she leaned down to grab the falling book, painfully unaware of the perilous position she was in. Her foot slipped along the rung, and the blunder dropped her at once into gravity's unrelenting pull.

Moving immediately, Athrun sped forth across the room, his heart thudding wildly with each stride. Damn that foolish woman! She should have known better that to reach for the book.

* * *

><p>Cagalli could feel the cold rush of wind stinging her cheeks as her body dropped like a stone towards the ground, her limbs flailing awkwardly by her sides. She hadn't expected her fall to be so … rushed. Maybe she had had one chocolate truffle too many that day. Bracing herself for the impact of painful, possibly bone-jarring impact that was to come, she squeezed her eyes shut.<p>

What she hadn't expected was to feel the hard knock of bone against bone, the sudden warm embrace enveloping her limp body. Her mind jerked back to reality as she heard the forceful exhalation of air against her neck, the choked "Oof!" at her ear, as their bodies fell back onto the chilly marble surface.

The two of them lay there for a while, Cagalli's back to his chest, her listening to steady whirr of the air-conditioning system. She took the chance to catch her breath, as her heart gently slowed to a normal beat. With the rear of her head nestled within the curve of his neck, she could feel his warm breath tickle her ear each time he exhaled. Cagalli wondered if she should get up.

And then, she felt it. An odd twitch against the small of her back and the clenched, hissing sound from his lips against the lobe of her ear. Realization dawned upon her as she recognized what it was. If anything, her limbs froze even more but her heart, however, fluttered annoying in her chest.

Athrun hurriedly pressed his palms firmly onto her back, pushing her body up into a sitting position. Nimbly sliding his legs out from around hers, he clambered off the ground and was soon standing about two metres away from where she was, almost as if he was in a hurry to get away from her.

Her cheeks turned innocently pink, as she quickly stood, brushing off her shirt and pants. Picking up the forgotten volume, she hurriedly made her way back to her desk and seated herself tightly behind it, her embarrassment showing no signs of abating anytime too soon. What was that all about? She felt like a schoolgirl fresh out of sex-ed class, complete with a blush and a wildly throbbing heart. Bloody hell, she couldn't have this.

Flipping open the heavy leather-bound book, her eyes scanning the contents, she felt her breath catch again when the soft pattering of footsteps neared the table. A loud "Ahem" broke the stiff tension in the air and, however reluctant, she still managed to glance up at him without breaking into another blush, her expression meek. Awareness of her own pathetic state seared at her cheeks.

Zala was standing there, his hair slightly mussed, his cardigan a little crumpled around the sleeves. But despite his dishevelled state, it only elevated his rustic charm a full notch higher. Cagalli immediately noted a faint tinge of red freckling his tan skin. His sudden quizzical expression made her realize she had been staring.

"Has your fall knocked all the sense out of you? If so, I'd suggest you go take a short rest before continuing. I really can't have a secretary who dazes into space one time too many."

That jolted her back, and willing herself to smile as nicely as possible, forced out "Of course not. I was just, ah, reclaiming my senses."

"And have they returned?"

"Of course. However, if you ever change your mind about not paying me by the hour, I'd seriously consider dazing off a bit longer than usual." She then flashed a bright smile at him and immediately turned back to studying the list of chapters. A small grin flicked across his face and he sighed. Untucking the yellow folder nestled between the crook of his arms, he laid it on the escritoire and flipped it out to the third page.

"My head PR Keane mailed this to me the other day. Figured it might help."

Flipping open the file, he riffled through the notes, the key points highlighted in a bright shade of yellow. The main topic was however, not the words.

A vividly printed picture of a plant with numerous, brilliant puce flowers dominated the page. The flowers itself were a stunning sight to behold – blooms dappled with dark spots along its large petals, the areas nearer the core a darker peach hue which slowly faded away to a pale light pink streaking the outer edges. Cagalli glanced at the tagline printed below the picture. "Lilium Triginum – The Double-Flower Kagaribi."

"That's it! The Kagaribi! The colour, the elegance... it would be just perfect."

"Wouldn't it?" Athrun had to suppress a grin, for just looking down at the girl as she bounced about excitedly on her chair was giving him an inexplicable urge to reach out and ruffle her hair. Which was of course, ridiculous.

He stood there perusing her features, her shoulder-length, wavy blonde strands, her delicate, feminine nose, those wide lips, her gleaming golden-brown eyes... and a sudden thought struck him. He made his excuses to leave, although she did not seem to hear him, and hurried off to his table, where a pencil immediately started flying across a blank sheet of paper.

* * *

><p>Well, frick. This sure took long…stupid exams. And guess what? I'm down with the accursed flu, just when I wanted to go to the movies too…<p>

R & R please!


	8. VIII: Kagaribi

**Chapter VIII: Kagaribi**

The ball was an elaborate affair, to say the least. Each chamber was magnificently embellished, the walls of a high-grade Connemara marble polished to shine. A huge chandelier hung from the arch of the ceiling, a thousand teardrops of Swarovski crystals throwing the hall into a sparkling glamour. The shadows of the ornate frieze encircling the grandiose piece of architecture gave their counterparts an almost life-like appearance, as if the angels and the winged beauties of the Greek mythology would suddenly spring forth from their mantelpiece and grace the lively congregation below with their presence.

The ball had commenced not yet an hour ago and already, the chamber was crowded beyond compare, the air almost stifling. No one, who was an established member of high society, ever passed up on the much coveted invitation to this particular triennial affair. Ladies and gentleman adorned in only the finest, most lavish panoplies of fashion milled idly around the room, engaging one another in desultory small talk.

"Oh yes, I heard of him. Lost all his funds on Wallstreet, didn't he? Such potential too, what a pity." Or "Did you hear? That man, yes that man, tried to hit on Ms. Up-and-Above Wran. Slapped him tight and neat, she did." And then while her enraptured audience would titter behind gloved fingers and tiny clutches, the speaker smiled smugly all around.

"Darling! Where have you been? Your guests are all waiting for you to give the opening speech." Donning a red cocktail slip that hugged all her curves, both real and fake, and a faux fox wrap that draped over her arms and the small of her back, Meyrin latched herself onto Athrun's arm, her manicured nails digging into the fine wool of his sleeve. He patted her arm gently, and winced slightly when her nails dug further in, "Just finishing up some little preparations."

Forcing a cordial smile on his face, he began the descent down the stairway towards his sea of guests, each and every one of them wearing hypocritical smiles of friendliness of their own.

As soon as they touched foot onto the linoleum floor, a sudden rush of guests thronged around them. Neophyte entrepreneurs looking to secure a stable position in society, eager ladies seeking to entice him from his fiancé with their feminine wiles, conniving individuals who aimed at extortion through a game or two of blackjack; none seemed to bear no excuse to insert themselves into his line of sight. Ten minutes into the fray and already, Athrun was forcing a growing well of ennui to not show on his face.

Instead, he concentrated on his well-practiced mantra – It's only once every 3 years, you can last through this. Cause you're a pathetic, sad, sad man if you can't even carry yourself through society's prattle. It was odd, but demeaning himself always seemed to help. Maybe because, deep down inside, he really was a sad soul. Athrun sighed at that disparaging thought.

Accepting a glass of Chardonnay from a passing waiter, he suddenly realized the absence of one particular person.

Where was she?

* * *

><p>Cagalli paced about her bedroom, fingers fidgeting together nervously. Occasionally, she would stop to glance towards the layer of peach lying neatly in its laundry bag at the edge of the bed, and then she would sigh and continue pacing. Minute after minute ticked past, and she could hear the dissonance of voices from below pervading though the door.<p>

Damn it, she sucked at handling herself in crowds and had made it clear to him that she would not attend this particular soiree. And what did he do but send an intricately designed gown to her room the next day, a jewellery box attached. Cagalli strode forth towards the bed and once again, slid the piece out from its wrap, the fine chiffon and silk sliding like liquid through her fingers. Undressing quickly, she slid into the gown with practiced ease, the soft silk caressing her skin.

Mostly peach, the chiffon gown was long enough to touch her ankles. The neckline of the gown was cut in a bias manner, from her right shoulder to her left breast, where an inch of creamy flesh was revealed. Blades of pale luminous green slanted along its edge. A crescent of green hooked the tip of her left shoulder and flared out at the edges, not unlike an inverted Kagaribi petal.

The gown was skin tight until her waist, where a second layer of a silvery, translucent silk was attached to her hip with the bud of a Kagaribi flower, dropping in numerous folds across her lower abdomen and curved up again around her other hip. The silk was then tugged gently around the back of her legs. The peach chiffon then slid down to her left ankle, cut high up to reveal her right leg from the knee. Teardrops of a darker peach hue speckled the loose folds draped around her left shin.

She turned slowly in front of the mirror, admiring the way the loose folds swayed about her shin. She fingered the silver silk wrap, marveling at the smoothness of it. She…

Click.

Cagalli spun around, her eyes widening when she realized that she was no longer alone. Zala leaned quietly against the teak door, his arms crossed before his chest. She silently praised him for his dress sense, an immaculate suit of unrelenting black that brought his dark good looks to the fore, but immediately started to fret when he pushed himself off the door and strode towards her.

Instead of berating her for not dressing quickly like she half expected him to do, he clapped both hands onto her shoulders, a wide smile lighting up his face. She blinked, surprised. "Well! This suits you better that I expected. But…"

Athrun reached behind her and snapped the jewellery box open and with a fluid movement, clicked the clasp shut around her neck. Cagalli looked down and fingered the piece softly. A fine strip of leather cut a V down her throat, an emerald studding the tip with two smaller ones hanging from the tips of inverted leather triangles on either side of the emerald.

She had yet to say anything, to protest anything, when Zala suddenly hooked his arm around hers, smiled a nod, and led her out the door and down the stairs. Cagalli felt as if she was immediately thrust into the spotlight, when hundreds of pairs of eyes were suddenly fixated on her. Curiosity and irritation warred on the faces of most females, while the interested gazes of men scanned her head to toe. Sweat beaded along her neck, and the frantic beating of her heart commenced.

Athrun felt his companion pause slightly, her arm tugging against his lightly as if to turn tail to run. He hooked tighter onto her, relenting only a tad upon hearing her sharp intake of air when his forearm accidentally brushed the edge of her breast. She was annoyed at him for dragging her out, he knew. But the dress had cost him a bloody fortune, and no way was he going to allow her to seal it up without even letting it see the light of day, or at least the chandelier's.

In front of them, Meyrin lurked, just at the end of the stair banister. "Well, hello there, Ms. Ath-ha". Cagalli winced inwardly, while forcing a polite smile. Meyrin always had that annoying tendency of spitting out her name whenever and wherever. Chef Antoine had balked when he first heard it, claiming that it sounded like a frog spitting. Cagalli hadn't even known that frogs spat until he had done a most ridiculous move of sticking his tongue out and blowing a raspberry, his spit flying everywhere.

That had elicited a bout of laughter from her; the other consolation being that Meyrin had lost her appetite afterwards, almost puking when she saw the dinner du jour - frog legs in garlic and parsley sauce.

"Athrun darrrling, how about joining me for a dance? They just started the waltz. Aaath-ha," Cagalli winced again, when she didn't spit it, she drawled it. "You don't mind, do you? Darrrling and I have guests to attend to and dances to dance. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over. So have a drink or two, the punch is fantastic."

_Translation: You're beneath me, so don't even think about hogging his attention. So while I dance and look elegant, you can just stand there by the refreshment table and mooch the punch._

Cagalli forced herself to speak coherently, "Sure. Here, you can have him back. I'll just, uh, grab a drink or two. Thirsty, y'now." Bitchy fiancé didn't need a second hint, she grabbed Athrun's free arm and pulled, then sauntered off smugly into the crowds, her hips swaying flamboyantly and occasionally bumping into his ass.

Two sips into the punch and she had to admit, the punch did taste pretty good. A little tangy and not too sweet, just the way she liked it. Cagalli glanced around for an empty seat, finally spotting one at the little corner. Refilling her glass and filling her plate with pastries, she slipped past the portly man stuffing mini croissants into his mouth and the stubborn little kid claiming dibs on all the fruit jellies. She turned to sit when someone behind her bumped her butt, causing her to stumble forward, her almost full glass toppling slightly and soaking her peach tart in punch.

"Damn it. Okay, what is your problem?"

She turned around to come face to face to a young man with thick, dark violet hair framing his pale face and eyes of a bright ruby. Upon seeing her, his face instantly turned contrite.

"Oh God! I am sooo sorry! Are you all right, lady?"

"Hell no! My drink has spilled, my peach tart is soaked, and a pastry has dro-"

"I hope you're not hurt, cause if you are, I'm in sooo much trouble."

"No, I'm physically unscathed but my tart…"

"No shit, I'm telling you! I just got out of house arrest for causing a traffic accident, any more flop-ups, and I am screwed!"

"Hey, mister. Calm down. I'm fi-"

"Seriously! Are you hurt, lady? Please tell me you're ok!"

Cagalli sighed, absently smoothing her dress with her free hand. Ok, she thought, I'll just wait till he's over his complex and-

"Truthfully, please. Cause my fragile heart can't take much more of this tension. Can yours?"

Her head snapped up in surprise, only to see the young man grinning at her, a mocking smile on his face.

"What the-… You got me good, I'll admit."

"I'll say, you looked as if you were about to have an apoplexy!" He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "I'm Shinn Asuka. What's your name, lady?" He winked teasingly at her, "I'll bet it rhymes with stunning, beautiful or something like that."

Cagalli blinked once. Was he flirting with her? Well! It certainly was a nice change from all the stifling paperwork she had to deal with everyday. "Cagalli Athha. I'm Mr. Zala's secretary." She offered her hand, meaning to shake his. But instead, Shinn took her hand in his, and lifting it to his face, kissed her knuckles softly. A blush blossomed across her cheeks.

She forced herself to say something, anything to distract her from the tingling heat on the back of her hand and the warm caress of his as he continued to hold hers. "Where do you work? It's not fair that you know mine, and I don't know yours."

"Are you attached, Cagalli?"

"No, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"Cause, I'm the Assistant Manager of Zala's finances department and…your new boyfriend."

Gently, he brought her hand up again, her fingers lightly touching his cheek, and grinned widely at her.

* * *

><p>Well, well, well. I didn't see that coming myself. Originally planned to give Shinn a bit of an inferiority complex, but decided against it myself. He needs charisma, man!<p>

Also, Cag's dress was based on a design I did once, using her as a model after I first saw the Lilium Triginum. Still have the picture. So proud, haha.

See ya!


	9. IX: Impulse

IX: Impulse

"God! It's so fricking warm here! Did Zala forget to pay his electricity bills or what? Stupid man…"

Cagalli waved a passing waiter over impatiently, roughly snatching a glass of chilled punch from his serving tray. She downed the whole glass hurriedly, sighing in satisfaction as the cold liquid slid down her throat.

"Dearie me. Why, I don't believe I've seen a woman act so gluttony, and at such an important gathering too." "Who is that lady? I've never seen her before. A newbie, is she? How uncouth." Cagalli heard a familiar snicker and she immediately stiffened. "Oh. That's just Ms. Aaath-ha. She's just my darrling's new secretary. No one important, really."

Cagalli turned slowly, her back rigid. Meyrin stood snorting behind her brocade fan, her friends milling around her, each one wearing their own derisive smiles. Upon noticing the empty glass clutched in Cagalli's hand, a mocking smile crossed her lips. Crossing her arms over her buxom chest, Meyrin smirked down at her from behind the edges of her fan.

"Why, Aaath-ha! You really listened to me and mooched the punch! Oh lord! You're like an obedient little puppy. How adorable!" Her audience started cooing and aw-ing at Cagalli, giggling girlishly to each other. One of them even attempted to tickle her under the chin, if it wasn't for the fact that Cagalli swiped her hand away. Growing annoyance seethed within her, her clutch around the glass tightened even more.

She was about to utter a nasty retort when a pair of smartly attired gentlemen strolled towards Meyrin's little possé, smiling ingratiatingly. The women immediately broke into delightful simpers, and pressed their gloved fingers against their chests, obviously trying to garner attention towards their ample assets. Their ploy worked perfectly, and both men hooked arms with a lady on each side, sauntering off towards the dance floor. Having lost the presence of an audience, Meyrin also lost interest in Cagalli, focusing it instead on a handsome individual sipping wine.

Cagalli sighed in exasperation, her fingers stroking the bowl of the champagne glass gently. A passing waitress approached her, a full jug of chilled punch on her serving tray, and proffered to refill her glass. Cagalli stared at the empty glass clutched in her hand, noting how the remnants of pale red liquid swirl at the pit of the bowl.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>I have got to get out of here, Athrun moaned inwardly; as he watched the swarm of guests around him grow even larger.<p>

"My lord, would you care to join me for a waltz or two?"

"Mr. Zala what do you think of the economic situation on Junius 7?"

"Athrun! Good pal of mine! Hey man, what kind of stocks do you think are quite the profit now?"

Athrun didn't even manage to answer one question before another was flung at his face, and his growing frustration was threatening to erupt on his face. Hurriedly, he muttered a few excuses, squirming his way through the jostling crowd and escaped to the opposite corner of the chamber. Sighing, he procured a glass of martini from the refreshment tables and headed towards the stretch of armchairs aligned along the east wall of the hall. Where he spotted her.

From his position, he was given full view of her profile, and it was amazing how different she looked from when she was always wearing her office suit and modest flats. He had not had an opportunity to fully admire her yet, and now, he was savoring every inch of her. Dressed to party in the chiffon peach gown and a pair of beige leather strap sandals with an inch of heel, Athha exuded an aura of elegance and soft beauty. Her short blonde hair curved out at her shoulders and framed the soft planes of her face, her lovely amber orbs glimmering in the bright chandelier light.

Nothing about her current form suggested anything about the young blonde boy he had stole cake from the other day at the café. An interesting discovery he had made when he chanced upon her in the kitchen, sprinkling copious amounts of sugar on her chocolate ganache, dressed boyishly in a khaki cargos and a tank top.

A bright smile lit her face, and her lips moved in conversation. Athrun felt the beginning of a smile twitch his own lips, and he immediately started making his way towards her. As he neared, the elderly couple standing between him and Athha moved away…revealing her conversation companion. Athrun's smile instantly inverted to a surprised frown.

Shinn Asuka was in charge of his financial department, and a more arrogant employee than most. He knew perfectly well his advanced accounting skills were indispensable in his particular bailiwick, and was not hesitant to lord over his colleagues. What did he want with Athha now?

Athrun grumbled to himself. She was way out of his league. Moving closer, he attempted to eavesdrop on them. As he watched, Asuka lifted Athha's slender hand and kissed the knuckles lovingly, before looking up back at her, his eyes gleaming slyly.

"Cause, I'm the Assistant Manager of Zala's finances department and…your new boyfriend."

Athrun paused. What? He strained to hear more, but Athha remained silent, looking at Asuka with unbelieving eyes. Asuka merely dropped her hand, blew her a kiss over his shoulders and strolled off leisurely towards the dance floor.

Athrun felt an odd sensation, like the displeasing taste of bile rising in his throat. Wracked with curiosity, he closed the distance between him and Athha, watching with annoyance as she was accosted by his fiancé and her little bonny clique. Just watching them cut others down with their demeaning remarks disgusted him. The clique lost interest in Athha quickly and she was approached by a waitress. Athha stared at her glass for a short moment, as if in deep thought.

Athrun felt the first flicker of amusement since the party had commenced. More punch? Hadn't she had enough of that stuff? Even whilst he was kept busy throughout the past hour, Athha had always seemed to be in his line of sight, and every moment he had seen her, she had been sipping punch. It was a wonder she hadn't contracted terminal diabetes.

* * *

><p>Both Cagalli and the waitress started when a hand reached out and snatched her empty glass out of her own. Turning, she was surprised to see Zala looking down at her, an amused expression on his face. She froze even more when he suddenly hooked his arm about the nook of her own and led her away, heading straight for the open terrace.<p>

"Mr. Zala, what are you doing?" she hissed, tugging against his grip, which tightened even more. He grinned boyishly back at her, his perfect teeth gleaming in the bright light.

"Just saving you from certain death by amputation," he grinned without further explanation when she shot him an annoyed, quizzical look.

She stepped past the double French windows and out of the stifling warmth of the ballroom, the cold night wind swifting past her cheek. A few unruly few strands of hair came untucked from behind her ear and whipped across her face. Athrun led her to the stone ledge bordering the terrace, leaning his back against the narrow stone parapet.

Sighing, he said "Sorry for dragging you out like that. Miss your punch already?"

She smiled lightly. "A bit. But I think the plump gentleman in puce will be glad I'm gone. He seemed obsessed with it, and growled every time the waiter there served me first." Athrun laughed loud and clear, the sound warm and crisp in the chilly night.

Turning towards the garden below them, she realized that every one of the bushes had been entwined with wires of soft lights, the cobblestone garden path awash in a pale reddish- blue tinge. Suspended high up in the dark, clear night sky, the silver grey orb of moon glowed with a fey shade. Situated right in between the maze of pruned bushes, sat an ornate marble fountain.

She felt a warm finger prod her gently in the shoulder, and then Zala's voice in her ear. "Lovely view isn't it? Would you care to take a leisurely stroll with me along a romantic moonlit path?"

"What?" Athha's voice was choked with laughter, her mouth curved up in the beginning of a laugh, her amusement drowning out the tickle she had felt in her gut the moment his warm breath had heated her ear.

Athrun felt his grin grow wider. "C'mon, I've been accosted by business men and enterprising ladies all night. I need some fresh air to clear my mind. Plus," he noted with a finger, "I did put in some effort to say what I just did, about the romantic path blah blah, without cracking up. Humor me, will you?"

"Ha! Fine. But you owe me." Chuckling lightly, she placed her hand in his outstretched one, letting him lead her down the stone staircase that curved down from the edge of the balcony to the garden below.

The pruned bushes came up to her waist, and Cagalli trailed her hand over the top, the leaves tickling her bare palm. All the way to the fountain, Zala amused her by regaling her with stories of Meyrin's shopping escapades, how she would argue him to the ground about how this one gown was her perfect piece, the soft texture, the sequined flared sleeves, the laced edges that fanned about her legs. And not 5 minutes later, when she saw another expensive gown, how she would insult the previous perfect piece and its over-glamour. How she would complain endlessly about how the sequins made her look like a Christmas tree and bitch about how the flared sleeves made her arms look pudgy.

The fountain looked even more beautiful close-up, each marble edge seemingly carved by the delicate hand of a master artist (which it was, since Zala wouldn't have it any lesser.) The grinning cherub faces of small angels danced from the arced body of the structure, glistening trails of water sluicing down the contours of their bodies. The gentle glow of tinged spotlights bathed the rippling surface of the pond of water encircling the fountain in a sparkling glamour. The soothing tune of an Oriental piece flowed through the misty night air from the pavilion, partitioned off from them by lines and curves of bush hedges.

Sitting down on the cold stone edge of the fountain, Zala probed a question that took her by surprise. "Why did you come to PLANT?"

Cagalli froze, that issue had always been rather sensitive, even with her new father. She turned her head towards the ground, praying that he did not see her eyes, now stinging with unfelled tears.

"My mother died in a traffic accident and, my dad, he was murdered."

Shit. Of all the things to ask about… A sudden pang of guilt hit him when he heard a telltale sniffle.

"I'm sorry about your parents. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay. It's been a while, so I'm fine now." Looking up, she saw him staring at her, his face softly understanding. "Seriously, I'm fine! Look! I'm not crying, okay? So don't, don't patronize me any more…"

What a liar.

* * *

><p>Athrun could feel her slender form quivering as he wrapped an arm around the small of her back, the other pressing the back of her head against his chest. Almost immediately, she gripped the lapels of his suit tightly, her head burying further in as the first trickles of tears soaked through to his skin. He felt the guilt grow when her sobbing grew louder and her shakings get stronger. "It's been almost a decade now. I should be fine." Cough, sniffle. "God damn it, I hate this."<p>

He stroked the back of her head softly, inwardly hating himself, when she suddenly pushed off from his body, her hands pressing against his chest. "Tell you something." She shouted, her tone suddenly furious. "I knew who the bloody bastard was. I fricking knew which SOB had my dad gunned down. And guess what? I couldn't do a single god damn thing but hate his guts. I couldn't throw him in jail, I couldn't take a gun at him myself, I can't even kick his god damn ass! All I can do is stand here and rail obscenities at him, and that sucks, y'now? Cause, he's not even gonna be here to hear them and…"

She probably would have ranted for the hour if he had not done something that surprised the hell out of her.

He invaded the space between their mouths and kissed her hard, pulling her body forcefully into his arms. In the first few seconds, Athrun felt her hands push roughly against his chest, her body struggling to get free. And in the next few, her arms had found their way around his back, her fingers were clutching onto the thick material of his overcoat, and her lips were fighting back against his.

A faint feeling of elation filled him, as his hand caressed her head, his fingers digging into the silky strands of her hair. In response, she pressed further into him, her mouth opening beneath his. Athrun took the opportunity to slide his tongue across the smooth surface of her teeth, feeling her moan reverberating throughout his body and all the way down South.

Her body burned, and no amount of common sense seemed to be able to extinguish the growing flame. And the more the flames consumed her, the more she desired it. Without thinking, Cagalli slid a hand along his back, down, down, feeling the smooth silk beneath her fingertips. An odd compulsion took her, and reaching further down, Cagalli grabbed his ass.

* * *

><p>"Shit! What the hell did you do that for?" Athrun pushed her off him, his eyes wide, one hand rubbing his victimized butt cheek.<p>

"What…what? What did I do?" Her voice had an odd, dreamy accent to it, her mind still clouded with lust.

Athrun stared at her incredulously. "You. Molested. My. Ass."

"I molested your...Oh. Crap. I…"

"And, you just ruined the nice ambience we had there."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? It was the punch talking…pinching your, um, posterior." Cagalli waved her hands about lamely, her fingers blindly indicating his butt.

Athrun sighed, smiling weakly at her. "Fine. Shall we, uh, head back to the party?"

"Okay, let's go." Turning, Cagalli took a shaky step forward, tripped over the low walls of the fountain pool, and fell sideways into the water.

Quickly forcing herself upright, she stared straight ahead, trying to reorient herself. Turning to face her chortling companion, her look unbelieving, she asked "Did I just…" His answer was punctuated by a snort. "Fall in the fountain? Yes." Snicker. "You did. Here. Give me your hand."

Her face blooming red, Cagalli took his offer and pulled herself out on to the ledge, her soaked dress clinging to every inch of luscious flesh, not that he noticed. Much.

"Athha, are you o…"

"Shut up."

"What? I merely wanted to ask if you were hurt. You tripped and…"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. And, by the way, that was the punch, not me."

"What?" He snorted mockingly, clapping a hand onto her shoulder. "You do realize there are extents to the damages punch can cause. And that, sweet, is out of its boundaries."

Her hand itched to hit him. "Damn it. Don't argue with me."

"Fine. Fine. But seriously, you…"

"Idiot! I said SHUT UP!"

Clutching the sopping wet folds of her dress, Cagalli stalked through the garden, taking a wrong turn twice and had to rein in her ire when Zala pointed them out with a smirk. Stomping right through the dance hall and up the staircase leading to her private chamber, she forced herself to ignore the shocked gasps and muffled snickers of the ton.

Standing at the doorframe to her room, she turned and glanced back down, seething again when she saw him leaning against the French doors to the terrace, smiling knowingly at her.

* * *

><p>Weell, let's see. Attractions are blooming, and silly men are having their asses raped.<p>

A/N: If it's Athrun, I wouldn't mind doing it myself. Heh. R & R please.

Faie. P


	10. X: Delay

**X: Delay**

"Doc! You old scum, how are you today?" Rosé drew back an arm and whacked the old geezer on his back, grinning when he forced back a wince.

"You silly little chit, your respect for your elders has been way overdue for years now." Despite his crankiness, Doc was obviously in a good mood, else his companions would have been catechized long ago for lazing around and spewing obscenities at FIFA on the T.V.

Looping an arm around his broad shoulder, Rosé leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, smiling at his annoyed grunt. Doc loved her, but hated it when she openly expressed her reciprocation. Today was no different, sniggers had already started passing around among the other men draped about the sofa.

"So, sweet. How's your job coming along?" He asked, dusting off his fitting shirt. Doc had never been very meticulous in his issues of cleanliness, but he had always made an effort to do so whenever she popped over. Well, at least he attempted to, and she loved him even more for that.

Rosé sighed, pushing her fists into the thick leather of her overcoat. "Pretty much smooth sailing. I observed the security systems at the place for a week, and managed to plant pinhole cameras in significant areas. His study, his bedroom etc etc. Plus, I hotwired the surveillances to my laptop. Wanna see? It's in my car now."

"No thanks, sweet. And by the way, did you install any cameras in his, ahem, bathroom? Y'now, for a little eye candy. I've seen his picture. Quite a stud, that man. Wouldn't you agree?"

Doc glanced at her teasingly, jerking his elbow playfully into her ribs. He moved quick enough to dodge her flying fist towards his head, followed by an irritated "Hmph." But he was slow to look back at her face, where the memory of a blush still lingered.

Chuckling, he dropped the subject. "Follow me, I've got something new for you."

Her curiosity piqued, Rosé let Doc drag her into the ammunition storeroom at the back of the building. While he sifted through the large trunk at the corner of the well-furnished room, Rosé poked around the closet in which Doc usually stored the new arrivals, and unhooked a long narrow rifle from its latch. Propping it up on her shoulder, she peered through the eyehole, and just for entertainment, aimed the barrel at Doc's ass, laughing when he growled in annoyance.

"That rifle's no fool's play, sweet. Remember that Winchester I told you about? That's the one. Old, but as effective as it was 2 days old."

"Sounds nice. Mind if I take it out for a test round?"

"Sure. By the way, while you're at it, take this lovely along with you. An Arsenal P-M02. It's a new model, recently shipped in from Bulgaria. Compliments of my cousin."

"Hmm. Anyway Doc, When I called, you told me he had recently contacted you. What's he want?"

"The man didn't say. But he did ask me to pass you this message."

Rummaging about the frayed pocket of his jeans, he extended a faded gloved hand, a crumpled piece of notepad paper in his palm. Unfolding it, Rosé scanned its message quickly before slipping the note into her coat pocket, a curse escaping her mouth.

"Damn. Stupid man. Sorry Doc, looks like I can't stay to chat after all. This seems urgent."

"No worries, sweet. Also, take this with you." Grabbing up a dusty leather pouch from a large trunk, he placed it in her hand. "It contains a few extra rounds of ammunition plus a brand new leather strap chest holster. My birthday present to you."

Rosé gasped, her eyes clouding over. "Shit, Doc. I hate it when you do this to me. You conniving old fox, are you trying to see me cry? Thanks." Placing the gifts on the floor, Rosé wrapped her arms about his muscular frame, a joyful sniffle choking up her nose. When they parted, Doc punched her playfully in the shoulder, smiling fatherly. "You should be glad no one but us is here right now, else I'd be tortured everyday for simply caring about you."

"Dumbass."

* * *

><p>Rosé made a sharp turn into the bustling parking lot, scanning the wide asphalt apron for an empty slot. There. Right between the red Dodge and the silver Merc. Exiting the car, she squinted up at the stately building ahead. Her client and his death wish. Again.<p>

Verifying her name as Ms. Nadine Jonas at the concierge, she managed to cram herself into the crowded lift before the doors slammed shut. 11th floor, suite R56. Her knuckles had just grazed the smooth wood for a third knock when the door suddenly swung wide open. Rosé was let in hurriedly, her client poking his head out and scanning the hallways before clicking the door shut.

Leaning against the clothes closet, she snorted. "Y'now, you really shouldn't do that. It just arouses more suspicion if you act like that."

"Never mind how I act. It's none of your business anyway."

"It will be, if you implicate me. Despite the not-so-paltry amount that you are forking out for one guy, I have no wish to get the police involved in my matters. Yours, I don't care so much." She stood akimbo in the hallway, glaring pointedly at him.

"Bitch. Anyway, I have sent for you as there is a change of plans in your little assignment. Over the past fortnight, there has been a fluctuation in the prices of stocks on the international market. If I bode my time well, the price of that bastard's stocks may drop enough for me to buy them over. If however, he dies now the patent of all his stocks will be controlled by his father. And once this happened, it will be near impossible to touch."

"And…so? Get to the point." She complained, rolling her eyes.

"Is it not simple enough for you to understand? Good god! My mercenary's smart enough to snuff someone but not understand simple ABCs?" He lamented, sweeping his arms about dramatically, oblivious to her tightening fists and the sudden jump of her cheek muscles. "Here. Let me simplify that down for you, sweetheart. Zala dies now, no good. Later, when I give the OK, Zala dies. Everybody's happy. Comprende?"

Rosé was hard-pressed not to forget how generously paying this whole task was and kill him there and then. Who did the little shit think he was? Instead, she forced out a demure "Si." through clenched teeth.

"Perfect. Now run along, I expect that you have a few language classes to catch up on." With one hand, he _dismissed_ her.

_He_ dismissed _her_.

_Nobody dismissed her_.

With a quick step forward and a rapid turn, she had his hands manacled behind his back, a gleaming rapier poised against the pale skin of his lanky neck. In midst the sudden silence, Rosé heard the loud gulping swallow as his body quivered with shock and fear, and imagined his heartbeat speeding up, faster, faster, before his heart exploded from the overwhelming pressure. But the cardiac failure didn't come, and his hands were starting to get real sweaty. Disgusting pig.

Lowering her voice to a hiss, she warned him right into his ear. "Listen, you. Just because you pay me doesn't mean I have to take your demeaning remarks too. At any time, if I decide to forgo this little assignment, you'd be a dead man. You clear? Or do I have to leave a little mark," she pressed the blade slightly more against his skin, but not hard enough to tear it, "to remind you?" His answer was almost inaudible, a wheezy huff that rang still of defiance, and only until a tiny trickle of blood seeped from the cut, did he capitulate.

"Perfect. I'm glad we've settled that." Smiling coldly, Rosé released him, letting his body fall heavily onto an armchair. Replacing her dagger, she stepped back and left the room without glancing back.

The man, who had been lying slumped against the plush armchair until he heard the door click shut, quickly got to his feet, his eyes seething with despise, his fists shaking with controlled fury. Snatching up his mobile, he practically rammed the buttons back into their dents, and when he spoke, his voice was coarse, rough.

"Hello? Juan? Get this lady checked out. Her name is listed as Nadine Jonas, but she prefers the moniker Rosé. I want everything you can find out about her mailed to me ASAP. Family, friends, whatever. Just dig out any shit you can find with her damned name on it. Goodbye."

On the other end of the line, Juan's mind had frozen still. His hand remained clutched around the phone, although the monotonous beep rang loud and clear in his ear.

Rosé? Shit.

* * *

><p>Ah haha! A cliffie! R &amp; R please!<p>

Faie. P


	11. XI: Unfounded Suspicions

**Chapter XI: Unfounded Suspicions**

Cagalli awoke to the muffled shouts of a very angry female at work. Fumbling at her bedside clock, she moaned when the stupid chunk of plastic slipped off the dresser and onto the carpet. The wails suddenly increased in volume and Cagalli tugged the bedsheets frustratedly over her head, desperately trying to drown out the noise. It wasn't enough that the sudden fluctuations in his stocks had prompted Zala to give her an increased workload, now his fiancée from hell had to exacerbate her misery too? Damn it, what she would give to quit the job there and then…

Cagalli jumped when the heavy oak doors were suddenly violently flung open and the bedcovers rudely pulled away from her grasp. Blinking against the sudden blinding bright light, the quivering figure of Meyrin came into view, her fuchsia head of hair practically flaring like Medusa's.

With an annoyed screech, she gripped tightly onto Cagalli's shoulders, dragging her out of bed and out into the hallway, where servants and maids huddled around, whispering curiously. Despite her protests, Cagalli was hauled rather unceremoniously to the master study chamber, where, still perturbed about Meyrin's sudden outburst, failed to notice the presence of one more particular individual there with them.

Meyin released her grip with a definite shove, and then turned to face the window, her eyes still sparkling fury. "There. I've brought her here. You said yourself that you wanted to listen to her side of the story to make a judgment." Surprised, Cagalli whipped her body around, her lips parting slightly when she saw Zala standing solemnly against his escritoire.

Darn the man. Despite staying up even later than her last night, how could he still look so refreshingly handsome at this ungodly hour of the morning? The man had to be either inhuman or some annoying experiment of God sent to constantly remind her of her own physical inadequacies…

Zala regarded her with a resigned look. "Athha, I sincerely apologize for the rudeness of my fiancée, but if we don't settle this matter now, I'm afraid that she'll continue to give the both of us hell for hours on end. So please cooperate with her."

Great. Cooperating with Meyrin was akin to wanting her to take a dive off the highest spire of the mansion, but for the sake of a peace of mind…With no other option that she could see, Cagalli sighed and acquiesced.

"Thank you. Meyrin, she's all yours." Cagalli swallowed hard. To her ears, those words sounded rather ominous.

And ominous it was, for the very next second, Meyrin had once again directed her attention onto her.

"Last night, I was unable to sleep and came out for a little stroll. When I turned the hallway, what should I see but you sneaking about the pantry, dressed in complete black with a small torchlight in hand and poking about the corners. I swear, that from head to toe, you looked like a cat burglar of some sort. I'm starting to suspect that your choice of working for my darling is really some sort of underlying conspiracy on your part."

Cagalli stared blankly at her.

Annoyed, Meyrin itched to slap her. "Well, aren't you going to concede defeat? Now that I've revealed your true colours, there is no way I'm going to let you remain here to work."

Cagalli finally sighed, the sound especially loud in the tense atmosphere. "Firstly, I apologize if I have caused any misunderstandings between the two of you. I'll admit that I was indeed 'sneaking' about the corridors last night, but not for the reason you suspect me of." Glancing at Meyrin's wary expression, Cagalli smiled and continued.

"I had lost an important piece of earring around that area yesterday. Since I was worried that it might get vacuumed up when the maids go about the house keepings at dawn, I had no choice but to look for it in the middle of the night."

Meyrin stubbornly refused to give in. "Why the hell didn't you switch on the hallway lights then? And your black clothes, how would you explain them?"

"I didn't know where the light switches were, so I resorted to using the only torchlight I could find, that pathetically tiny thing. And about the clothes, that was purely unintentional. I had been so frantic at that moment that I had thrown on anything I could find and left. So…are you satisfied now? I am not attempting anything on your darling, your suspicions are completely unfounded."

Meyrin gave a snort. "Not attempting anything? Even if I was in the wrong when I accused you about being a cat burglar, you're obviously lying through your teeth when you say that."

Cagalli's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

A smug expression crossed Meyrin's face. "The night of the gala, you deliberately wore such a revealing dress to seduce my fiancé right? Please. You're way out of your league. Did you think for once that such a dress would be able to stea-"

Meyrin went silent when Zala suddenly covered her mouth with his hand. "That's enough accusations for today, Meyrin." He exasperated.

Snatching his hand off, she turned to him with an imploring gaze. "But she…"

"I gave Athha that dress. It was merely a token of my gratitude to her for putting up with the immense attention required to organize the gala."

"What? But…"

"She was not to blame, sweetie. Now go prepare, else you're going to be late for the lunch appointment you have with your shopping girls."

As Zala gently shoved his protesting fiancée out the door, Cagalli turned to send a farewell message. "Oh, and by the way, Ms. Kane. You might need to get your eyes checked. Last night, the pants that I had been wearing weren't black, but brown."

Cagalli stifled a snicker when she heard Meyrin let out a shriek and stomp off down the hallway. Behind her, the door clicked shut and Zala's relieved sigh echoed throughout the newfound silence.

Smiling weakly, he turned to address her. "I sincerely hope that this little accident hasn't caused you to rethink your position in my office. My ex-secretary left because she was unable to put up with Meyrin's tendencies for rudeness anymore. I really do like the work you do."

Cagalli smiled smugly, and thumped her fist on her chest. "Fear not my lord, for I am not so weak-hearted. In fact, your fiancée is just beginning to get to know how stubborn I can be sometimes."

"Perfect. I really need a woman like you who could stand up to Meyrin around here. Oh and…that was the truth? About you losing an earring and all…?"

Cagalli turned to look at him. "What? You think I lied?"

"No but-"

"Good! I applaud you!" She suddenly exclaimed, taking him by surprise.

Athrun stared at her skeptically. "What…?"

"You're right. I lied. You should never judge a book by its cover y'now. These sexy looks I have now are a result of years of occult worshipping. You should see how I used to look 5 years ago, it's a complete difference!"

Her grin growing even wider at Athrun's bland stare, Cagalli continued. "Black is what I wear when I carry out my nightly prayers. I had been poking about your pantry only because I've run out of live sacrifices. Didn't find any though," she sighed, hanging her head in mock resignation.

Athrun finally gave a laugh. "Of course you wouldn't. I obsess over the cleanliness of my house. You could even say I have a mild compulsive cleaning disorder. Why do you think I had so many maids employed?"

"To deal with Meyrin's shopping escapades?"

Another laugh. "That too. But still, you'll never find any potential live sacrifices scurrying about the pantry at night."

She suddenly stared at him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. "In that case, would you…"

Snorting, Athrun dismissed the idea. "So. How was your first experience dealing with my harridan fiancée?" he continued, walking over to an armchair.

"It sucked." Cagalli moaned, "I hate waking up so early in the morning. And when she dragged me here, I half thought it was because she had found out about our little tête-à-tête that night of the party." Cagalli slanted a bland look at him. "You haven't come clean about that, have you?"

Athrun gave her a blank stare. "You want her to have my head on a platter and yours dumped in a ditch? Of course not."

Cagalli breathed a sigh of relief, something that did not go unnoticed by him. His voice laced with amusement, Athrun smirked. "What? Are you that worried that she would find out?"

Easing out of his armchair, Athrun strode fluidly towards her. "Well, how about we give her some more things to find out about?"

Still smirking, he slid his hand around her head and grasped lightly at her hair. Cagalli's mind went blank, her cheeks burning up with embarrassment. Struggling to regain herself, she swiped his arm away and glared pointedly at him. "Forget it, you ass. I'm not that loose."

"Maybe not, but you sure are liberal." Athrun grinned, whistling appreciatively as he looked at her from head to toe.

"What…?" Glancing down, Cagalli started when she realized her present state of dress. A stark red tube top matched with a tiny scrap of black gym shorts. An outfit, in other words, that revealed almost every curve on her body.

"Shit! Why didn't you say so?"

Looking frantically around for anything to cover herself up, she started again when he slid out of his robe, revealing his own utter lack of a top. With only a pair of black cotton jeans loosely hugging his trim waist, Athrun's washboard abs were put on full display.

Cagalli froze when he took a step towards her, his arms reaching around her to wrap the robe around her shoulders. With her nose barely two inches away from his chest, she didn't dare even breathe. Despite that, a warm scent pervaded her nostrils. The man smelled like clean soap, a tinge of aftershave and all hot, sexy male.

"There. Now you don't look so much like a hooker." Athrun said, giving her a warm smile. His insulting comment jolted her back to reality. Tucking the robe more securely around herself, Cagalli responded with a deciding snort.

"And you now look like a gigolo. Seriously, please go put on a top. I don't want anyone who suddenly comes in now to think I'm desperate and raped you just to ease my depression."

Athrun gave a loud bark of laughter. Still shaking with suppressed humor, he reached out a hand and ruffled her hair, before turning to the partitioned door between the study and into his own private chambers.

Leaving her with a sudden unexplained feeling of forlorn loss.

Damn it. She needed to get away from this man.

Now.

* * *

><p>"Rosé! What brings you here today? I've got no new guns in store for you y'now."<p>

Rosé reached out to wrap an arm around Doc's strong shoulders, smiling sweetly. "I know, Dad. Can a daughter not come to visit her father purely because she misses him?" "You're really too reliant on me sometimes, you know that?" But despite his chiding, Doc hugged her back.

Sliding down into a worn leather sofa, with Rosé's head resting on his shoulders, Doc continued. "Well, aren't you going to tell me what's wrong? Despite what you said just now, a father can always tell when something's on his kid's mind."

She remained silent for a few more moments before finally heaving a tired sigh, and leaned forward, her chin cupped in a palm. "I'm really not what I used to be, Doc. Someone's seen me in action. Last night. When I had been looking for a corner to connect a camera." She sighed again, her eyes slowly sliding shut, "Even though I managed to brush off her silly accusations, the feeling of being maligned really sucked."

Doc reached forward and pulled Rosé against his chest. "Sweetie. You're just overreacting. Tell me, how many years has it been since you signed up as a hired mercenary?"

"6. But what has that got to do with this?"

"Everything, my sweet. You've had 6 years of experience. Don't you think that if you were truly as incompetent as you think, you would have probably been apprehended long ago?"

Rosé tilted her head up to look at him. "Well…yeah. I guess so."

Smiling fatherly at her, Doc continued. "So see? You're good at what you do. Frankly, you're one of the best I know."

She punched him playfully in the arm. "One? Who else do you know are as good as me?"

"Let's see…we'll start with me…15 years ago, of course. And you know Juan right? That Spanish fellow who used to come over on occasions to train with you?"

"Yeah…he's good. Ok. Enough of this talk. I just want to rest now before reporting back to my boring office duties."

"My shoulder is all yours, my dear daughter, my sweet."

"Cagalli."

* * *

><p>AN: すみません、ほんとうにすみません！

I sincerely apologize if you have grown a few more white hairs wondering when this accursed chapter was gonna come out…Now that I think about it, this fanfic's been on hiatus for, heck, 4 months? Wargh! Guess I've been enjoying my new JC life too much, forgot about you people waiting for me.

But still, it's finally out! ばんざい、ばんざい！

I dare not ask for reviews now… See ya!

ファイ。


	12. XII: Tangled

**XII: Tangled**

Infuriating.

That was the one word that popped into her mind when she thought about him. Well, after she had angrily pushed away other words like hot, sexy and…she couldn't name the others without breaking into a flush.

Annoyed at her own weakness, Cagalli grabbed the towel from the bar and rubbed it vigorously against her body, hoping to scrub out any memory of his scent on her that had seeped out of his robe.

"Screw him," she muttered, pacing about the bathroom, steamy from her recent shower. And since it felt good, she said it again. "Screw him! Screw him! Screw…!"

"Fuck!" She picked herself up from the wet floor, her back sore and her arm throbbing from its little encounter with the toilet seat. Tears threatened to brim over, and would have, if she hadn't pinched herself, an efficient reminder developed over the years that reminded her to "Get a grip!"

Slipping into a set of worn "Comfort" clothes, she sipped at the cup of hot cocoa that she had left on the table and forced herself to transit into serious mode. Tapping at the keyboard of her personal notebook, easily bypassing the series of random security questions and pass codes, she felt herself at ease again. There, the comfort of doing something she'd been doing for years. At least here, in her personal world of secret agendas, she did not feel like a complete neophyte.

The monitor flashed black for a second before it reappeared, the screen dissected into numerous evenly-sized squares, each playing a different video. Relief flushed through her, she had been wracked with worry about any potential damages the Gala would have wrought on her precious Chibi Spies.

Somehow the term "Remote Pinhole Spying Bots with Audio Recording and Computer Linkage System, no batteries included" didn't really slide off her tongue that easily. Besides, Chibi was a much more adorable term for pinhole.

Slurping at the delicious concoction, extra sugar added, with glee, she cursored her mouse over to the next page of screens. Hmmm, nothing on with the help around here; just people milling about the kitchen preparing suppers and tidying up the remaining mess from the party. Now for the residential quarters.

Her room looked fi… Shit! Was that how her hair looked like from the back? O well, no one's here to see. Nice aerial view of the four canopy bed though, she grinned, one of the few delectable and _acceptable and non-human_ perks this job had to offer. Flip, flip, flip…and she stopped.

Meyrin was flitting about her room, slipping into different stylish dresses and strutting along a make-shift catwalk. Damn, she thought with sadistic glee, the woman sure had a lot junk in the trunk. Meyrin's lips moved, her attention directed to another corner of the room.

"That's odd," Cagalli muttered, the cameras didn't show anyone else in the room. Who was she talking to? She zoomed in on the general area the girl was looking at, a low dresser. There was nothing odd about that table, except for a large frame sitting amidst some candles and flowers. A frame that, displayed clearly on the next screen, depicted a girl with a wide innocent smile, shining eyes and long red hair draped about her neck.

What the… Was she that much of a narcissist that she'd sing her own praises?

She sipped again and continued on to the next room, despite her reluctance. Who knew what yummy, se… ugly-ass annoying!… sights would invade her screen. Her breath hitched when she saw a flash of blue hair disappear out the door, closing it behind him. Her hand seemed to have a life of its own, flipping through screens that followed his tight…fat…ass along the hallway. It was already 1, where on earth was he going? And how the hell did he still manage to look so fresh and awake at this time, when she herself had to take a cold shower to force her mind up?

Zala turned into his private pantry at the end of the hallway, rummaged about the fridge and came up with a dish of small, but utterly enticing pastries that made her tongue tingle and water. I want some too…she thought longingly. She watched him stride through the hallway, his long legs eating up a considerable amount of space with each step, a hint of a smile quirking up the corner of his lips.

He turned a bend and suddenly the Etruscan painting hanging along the new corridor looked all too familiar. Shit. She estimated that she had about a minute before the knock resounded.

She hurriedly programmed the for a new file recording of the next day, shut the program and slammed the screen down, just as clear taps echoed from across the room. Straightening her clothes, she didn't want to give him another peek show, she "Eeped" as she remembered to comb her hair out.

What was wrong with her? Cagalli Yula Attha, power woman and pedigree bred mercenary never eeped. Curses. But she had other things to worry about now.

"Where…" she pondered, frantic. "So not the bed, can't have any weird ideas coming from m…him. The chaise then." Settling down, she gave herself another once-over and called out to him.

She idly wondered if he had chosen the wood of her door based on how well it complemented his colouring. The reddish brown ashwood provided a starkly beautiful contrast against his dark hair and skin. His form leaned against the frame of the door, that tell-tale quirk at the corner of his lips, and his green eyes glimmered in the bright incandescent light, so very focused on her. In spite of herself, her breath caught, her heart lurched and her skin tingled as his gaze swept over her, leaving fire burning.

"Want some? I saw that your light was still on, and it just so happens that I'm feeling a little peckish now. Though," he flickered a glance at her mug, grinning a little at the huge KitKat emblem, "you might have already beat me to it."

Cagalli nervously fiddled with the edge of her top, and smiling weakly, she carelessly waved a hand around the space next to her.

"Come in."

* * *

><p>Woah. After so long…I make my grand reappearance with an annoying unfinished end for all AC fans out there.<p>

Haha.

R&R. Thanx!

Faie.


	13. XIII: Intoxicated

**XIII: Intoxicated**

A/N : Fair warning. This chapter's characterized lime.  
>20% lewd, 80% sweet, but all AxC goodness.<p>

* * *

><p>"Those are some sexy clothes you have on."<p>

She froze in midst of taking her third pastry, a French tart with thinly sliced strawberries and peaches, a dollop of fresh cream drawn neatly in spirals along the edge of the crispy biscuit. So far, all he had done was invade her space, sat on her, well his, chaise lounge, close enough for her to touch yet fearing the worst if she did, and silently sipped Earl Grey while watching her claim all the tarts as spoils of war. And that was the first sentence he chose to say?

She snorted, blushing slightly when a flake of the now-deceased mini Valrhona chocolate croissant dropped from her lip. She glared up at him, daring him to mock her.

Athrun never did, he was quickly learning that silence was the best way to ruffle her feathers, and what a beautiful plumage they made.

"They're old", he said after a long pause.

"So what?"

"They've been washed thin," he smirked, "and under this light… well let's just say, I've never met anyone with a mole on her upper left. It's rather enticing though, makes me wonder which one I should kiss first."

Oh hell no, he did not just say that! Cagalli turned a furious crimson, clutching a throw pillow tightly to her chest. She was terribly tempted to throw another at him, and when he laughed a hearty chuckle, she did. Hard. One that he caught immediately. The horrible, horrible man clutched it to his chest, his smirk growing wider.

"Sorry, I've nothing to hide here, not any that I know of anyway. Maybe you'd like to give a second opinion?" At that excit ... lewd proposition, her face burned impossibly hot and her scowl deepened. "Are you just going to sit here and throw sexual innuendos at me all night? Cause I suddenly feel like going to bed. Not like there's anything _big or interesting down here _anyway." She gave a little smirk of her own.

That ought to put the rat-bastard down.

What she didn't expect was for him to edge nearer, his arm stretched across the length of the back-rest behind her, a careless brush along the nape of her neck driving her heart into overdrive. Leaning in, he moved his face close ... too close! She could feel his warm breath tickling her ear. "Odd scent", she silently fretted, desperate to take her mind off the boiling lust threatening to erupt, "Doesn't smell like Earl Grey."

"Tell you what," he breathed, "you make it _big_ and I'll make it _interesting_." Then, without a care in the world, Athrun leaned back onto his side of the chaise, picked the forgotten French tart from her loose grip, popped it in and gave her a smile worthy of the Cheshire.

Cagalli simmered within, although she wasn't quite sure it was the good kind, the I-so-feel-like-jumping-your-bones kind. But then again, she could count the number of men who had ever made her feel even the least bit aroused on a hand. If so, it was sad that this winner would be one that would eventually meet his end at her hands. She smoothened out her clothes, "I need the toilet. 'Scuse me." Careful not to meet his eyes, she disappeared into the marble alcove.

* * *

><p>With water jetting out of the sterling tap at full blast, she splashed some onto her face, feeling the liquid drip down her shirt. This had to end; the man was prey, <em>not <em>predator. Come on, Cags, you're the superior hunter! Sighing loudly, she dried herself off with a soft furry hand-towel.

Sadly though, even the superior hunter was no match for a true-blood Coordinator with stealth and fleet feet engineered into his genes. From behind her, she felt a warm hand hook her hair away from her neck and a low, husky voice whisper next to her ear.

"That's hardly enough water. With the amount of heat radiating from your skin, sweetheart, you might as well jump into a cold tub with me." He laughed and took a step back when she swung a backhand at him, her face twisted into a angry snarl.

"I have better taste in men than you think, Zala. You could only dream of reaching my standards in two lifetimes."

His smile vanished so abruptly, it took her by surprise.

"Better standards...like Asuka? Shame on you, Attha. It should be fairly obvious that he's a no-count, unrepentant flirt who thinks his dick is God's gift to women-kind."

"What? Of course not him, and I'm not blind Athrun dear. Besides, who are you to lecture me on choosing good men? Meyrin ain't exactly the wonder I would expect someone of your status and mind to choose as a _lifelong _partner."

"Ha," he slouched casually against the frame, "she was never my choice. Our parents thought the marriage was a fantastic business venture and status advancement when they made the decision without my knowing. Now though, pity and genuine friendship is all that binds us together."

The news came as a revelation. Even in Orb, marriages of the higher-ups were never so practical or rational. An unexpected wave of pity seeped through her as she heard herself ask softly.

"Say it was your choice, what sort of woman would you choose?" And perhaps I'd murder all who fell under that type... She frowned at that thought.

A contemplative expression came over his face, as he looked skyward for a moment. "A girl who is smart, doesn't have to be model-pretty, but has a gentle aura that exudes elegant charm. Not shop-crazy, but with who I wouldn't mind spending a day touring the streets. Not conventionally perfect, but perfect. For me."

He cast a lingering glance on her. "Someone like you would be..."

Don't. I can't...

And smiled. "Magnificently perfect."

An odd sensation overwhelmed her, as she struggled to think coherently. She was ... perfect? Not only that, but magnificently so?

Swallowing nervously, she managed to choke out. "But I ... love shopping"

His smile lingered. Stop that! She wanted to scream. You're making this ... me ... weird!

"Maybe. But I sure as hell know I would enjoy touring the streets with you."

Her face was hot, scorching, and she feared that under it burned a fire that she would never be able to smother out. She glimpsed at the tap, still gushing water. Would that still help?

The tiny movement did not go unnoticed by his trained eyes. Reaching forward, he allowed a small amount to pool in a cupped palm before he turned the faucet off. "Let me help," he muttered, and let the water sluice down the curve of her cheek, along the nape of her neck, following the liquid with steady eyes for seconds before speaking again.

"There's still some. You shouldn't sleep in wet clothes. I've told you before that I don't need a sick secretary."

He stepped closer and leaned forward, lazily dragging his tongue up her jaw-line and cheekbone, a scalding trail of wet that left her skin delightfully titillated. Athrun reached behind her, stroking a finger along the curve of her spine, up and up, over her shoulder, across her shoulder blades, and finally between the valley of her mounds, where he let it fall away slowly.

It was an odd sensation, _letting_ him do this, _watching_ him do this, _feeling _him do this, and yet never obstructing him from doing it. Cagalli willed herself to look into his eyes, and she was mildly taken aback upon seeing the raw emotion reflected in the clear emeralds. She felt herself move in hesitating jerks.

_This had to stop_. Gingerly, she reached out to him, her fingers stroking his cheek, such smooth skin.

_She shouldn't_. Crisp stubble laced his chin, it felt deliciously rough against her fingertips.

_She would have to kill him soon_. She leaned forward, bringing them nose-to-nose. Such a simple gesture. Such a wonderful feeling.

_He was prey_. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moved another inch forward ...

_He was_ ... _So sweet_. She moved her lips ever so slightly, and he reciprocated, his mouth opening, a slow lick along her lower lip, as if requesting entry. Wanting more, she opened and touched the tip of his tongue with her own. It was like tasting heaven. She had always known that danger paid well, but she had no idea it tasted so delectable as well. Sweeter that any sugar, more stimulating than any drug. The knowledge that his fiancé was 3 minutes away; that a servant could enter anytime; simply elevated the thrill of the clandestine kiss.

He tilted his head to give them both more access, his tongue lightly tracing her teeth. It was ... Intoxicating. An drug with no cure. And she was hopelessly addicted.

* * *

><p>He was lost. The feeling of her soft body, with all its perfect curves, pressed tightly against his own in full surrender was overwhelming his conscience. But it still wasn't nearly enough. He needed more.<p>

Taking it up a notch, Athrun wrapped an arm around her small waist, bringing them even closer. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek, pressing his thumb against the underside of her chin, pushing her head to the side, breaking their kiss. Shakily, he traced a wet line along the sweet curve of her neck, gently suckling the edge of her earlobe into his mouth. Lavender sweet. He was thoroughly enjoying the feel of her hot breath against his cheek, and the lustful moans she made as she pressed her head ever deeper into the niche of his neck.

Pushing her backwards, he wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her suddenly onto the low cabinet against the wall, knocking soap and lotion bottles messily onto the floor. The giggle that he elicited was an innocent one, but it stirred up an entire myriad of un-pure thoughts in his mind. Cupping her cheeks with both hands, he pressed down hard, feeling her gasp against his lips as they kissed with burning, open-mouthed fervor.

Distractedly, he noted that her hands were gripping the edge of the wooden panelling, as if afraid. Athrun grabbed her wrists roughly and pressed them against his waist, just as he murmured against her lips, punctuating words with kisses.

"Cagalli. Sweetheart, you're not going to fall off. Right now, I need you to touch me. Your property, your freedom."

She didn't open her eyes but rather, acknowledged his words when she hugged him tightly; an unrelenting grip that left deliciously painful scratch marks on his back.

More.

Fingers edged under the neckline of her tee, forcibly tugging the irritable cloth off her shoulder. Scalding kisses, scattered along her fair skin, as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing him down, urging him further.

His licked the flesh of her mole, and bent his knees in order to reach further down. He ...

* * *

><p>"Like a virgin!"<p>

Startled, Athrun hurriedly pushed himself off her as clear, loud music rang noisily in the air. Both of them were breathing heavily, their faces flushed with spent passion, but their hearts and flesh still throbbing for more.

The sound of Madonna's voice snapped Cagalli's senses awake first, as she frantically leaped off the cabinet, grabbed her phone from the robe hanging on a steel bar and dashed out the bathroom. By the time she had slowed her breathing enough to be confident that nothing could be gleaned from her shaky voice, the phone had stopped ringing.

Slumping down on the carpeted floor, she tried to make out what had just occurred. She lifted a quivering hand to her mouth, hoping that it was enough to remind them of words. She remained speechless. A sudden sound behind her snapped her head around. The room door was ajar, and Zala was standing half-in, half-out, carrying the tray of long forgotten pastries and tea.

With a weak smile, and eyes that looked at the floor rather than at her, he muttered a quick "Goodnight" before disappearing from her sights, the soft click of the door echoing loudly in the heavy silence.

* * *

><p>Awww. So sweet. I've missed the lovely, married couple that they SHOULD have become. Damn all ZAFT politics.<p>

Faie.


	14. XIV: Tying Up Loose Ends

**XIV ~ Tying Up Loose Ends**

The memory of the Juan's voice rang clear in her head, no matter how many times she replayed the message in her mind, her fury still burned true.

* * *

><p>"Rose, I can't talk for long so listen carefully. I've been debating over and over again whether or not to tell you, but I finally decided that I still like you too much to betray your confidence. The fellow you're working for now, one Daley Einston, he's commissioning me for a background check on one very beautiful blonde, namely, you. Apparently, he's had enough of the rough scare tactics you're so fond of and now wants something he can control you with. Update me, please. ASAP. Miss you, Juan."<p>

* * *

><p>Cagalli sighed. Well, at least it was nice to know that someone acceptable was still half in love with her. After this whole fiasco ended, she should probably get back together with Juan, even if it was simply to help her forget about <em>him<em>.

Pacing about the room in comfortable padded slippers, she pondered over a next suitable course of action. Relegating Einston to a suitable hell would be a simple task, not worth breaking a sweat over. Cagalli never undertook an assignment without preparing a contingency plan for rogue clients. Security secrets, bank code numbers and the essential what-nots, she had her means. It was child's play.

But this was different, she had never seen a pay check with so many potential zeroes before. Working for him was infinitely more lucrative than working with Zala. Emotionally-wise, the details were unimportant.

Turning towards her phone, Juan in mind, she noticed a dark patch of fur peeking out from beneath the chaise. Upon closer inspection, she felt a series of tirades bubbling in her throat. The accursed man had left his slippers in her room!

Her first train of thought was to burn the woolly pieces of a bad memory, a stark reminder that he was here last night, taking their liaison to the next level. Unfortunately, the modern lines that his house was designed upon never accounted for the installation of an antique fireplace.

* * *

><p>Grumbling and muttering with every brisk step, Cagalli side-stepped servants bustling about the corridors, going about their morning house-keepings. Two sharp knocks, and she waited. And waited. And ... Waited. Curiously peeking into the room, she snuck in, tip-toeing across the thick Aubusson carpet. If he was still asleep, she'd scare him awake. If he was brushing while only in his boxers, that would be fantas ... Distasteful. But a quick glance around the room told her that it had been vacated for a while. Where was the blasted man?<p>

Clutching the slippers in tightened fists, she stalked down to the kitchen, hoping to catch a quick bite, only to see a blue-haired male perched on the marble tabletop, sipping from a Nespresso mug and flipping leisurely through a Times issue. Upon hearing her arrival, he glanced up, a warm "Morning" hanging off his lips. His lips ... She suddenly recalled the feel of his warm lips open against hers, the way he had pressed her ... No!

Shaking any traces of last night from her head, she flung the pair at him, the move awarding her with a surprised "What the ... Oh." Huffing with self-satisfaction, she propped herself up on the counter top next to him and poured her own drink.

"So. Zala. How was your ... sleep?" She asked, every word formed with careful deliberation. Without looking up, he replied. "Fine. But perhaps tossing and turning, with my body still jacked up from our rendezvous, would be a more apt description. Also, I think we're way past last names. Hearing you moan in my embrace is a great advancement in relationship status. Cagalli."

She nearly dropped her cup, how on earth could he say something so ... So ... with a poker face? Voice quivering, damn her frailty, she continued, "So, I was idly thinking about your drink last night when it occurred to me, you were drunk! So, what say we brush last night off as you ..."

He rudely cut her off. "I won't deny that I was imbibing Scotch last night, but forget it sweetheart, I wasn't even tipsy."

What ... ?

He looked up, staring straight into her eyes. "I don't need to be drunk to be tempted to seduce you. Again."

This time, she did drop her cup, the plastic clattering loudly on the floor, splashing juice all over the gleaming parquet. Chortling loudly, Athrun called for a maid then strode confidently out the room, leaving her seething, while orange fluid dripped from her pants.

"Juan, give Einston something to play with. Make it up, mix-and-match, I don't care. He won't even need to consider using it. I'm going to make this job such a success he'll never regret hiring me in the first place."

"Cags, you ok? The last time you sounded so tense, there was a heap of ... collateral damage during the kill," worry clouding his tone.

"I'm great. Wait for the good news." Slamming the receiver down, she picked up the mini letter opener from the dresser and stuck it in a wall 20 feet away.

He was going down, sweet kisses be damned.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

* * *

><p>She stepped out of the the tub, water dripping from her short hair. Sticking her head out the window, into the night, she sighed as a cool breeze tickled her cheek. It was a moon-less night, the surroundings draped in an unrelenting dark shadow.<p>

She loved it. Darkness was her accomplice, and revenge was her game.

Was tonight the night? She didn't know, but the urge was boiling.

Dragging out the small black duffel from underneath her bed, she rummaged for her trusty 9mm Glock hidden beneath her wads of clothing and towels. She smiled as the feeling of a new magazine clicking soundly into place reverberated throughout her palm.

Locking a safety belay around her torso, she silently scaled the balcony down into the gardens, hugging the shadows as she advanced. Her form finally disappeared out the driveway to an electric bike camouflaged in the forest beyond.

* * *

><p>Turns out that it was her night. The task was quick, handled efficiently and with practiced ease. This one, made to look like a suicide, would never stir any waves, the media's attention was still revolved around the brutal murder of Kane. Who would ever suspect that foul play was involved in the death of a failed and publicly bankrupt businessman?<p>

She had kept up her pretenses well.

Stretching out her muscles, she snuggled into the comfort of her bed. Everything was going according to plan. Kane was gone, and so was Heinz. Now all that was left was one green-eyed Casanova, who was too busy screwing his secretary to notice that he was the final cream glazing on her recipe for revenge.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Soon, she thought, those who killed us would all be 6 feet under. You would have your revenge. And then, when everything is over, would you smile for me again?

I miss that.

I miss you.

She slipped into a dream that night, with a tear glimmering at the corner of her eye.

* * *

><p>Wow. So many contradictions. Got your undies in a twist?<p>

Haha.

Faie.


	15. XV: The Resolve to Scheme

**XV: The Resolve to Scheme  
><strong>

Cagalli soaked her body into the bubbly froth, relaxing as she felt the cold water tingle her skin alive. She scooped up a handful of water and watched as drips trickled out of her hand, a frothy and viscous mess. Frothy and viscous ...

Fury creeped into her mind again. Someone else had beaten her to her kill. _Her_ kill. It was ridiculous and infuriating. By the time she had arrived at the dingy apartment building, the man was already dead, his body askew on the mossy carpet, rodents burying gruesome holes in his flesh. Thick, dark blood pooled from his wound and froth bubbled at his mouth.

Cagalli had stood there like a fool, silenced pistol in a hand, her other gripping the leather leg of her pants, quivering in shock.

A sudden rush of adrenaline had kicked her senses alive and she had snapped her head around. She kept her body low and hugged the shadows as she inspected the rest of the building. Whoever did this might have still been around and she wasn't interested in being rat appetizer.

An hour later, and there had not even been a whisper of another voice. Frustrated and drained, Cagalli had holstered her gun and left. Going home immediately had seemed too depressing, so instead she had blended in with a partying crowd at an old abandoned building where nobody cared who the other was when they felt each other up in the name of dance.

She had to admit, the guy was young, but he had known what he was doing.

And finally, with a headache tearing her brain apart, she had stopped by the 24hour mart and bought bottles of aspirin and a huge tub of hating-myself-for-sluttiness mocha triple chocolate fudge ice cream.

* * *

><p>Cagalli sunk her head underwater, her hair afloat on the surface. She had to consider a possible bounty on her head. Going after someone else's prey was a sure-fire way to get them to come searching for you, their senses blinded with rage and thus likely to walk stupidly into a trap.<p>

But what had roused her the most was that she had probably just missed the culprit. The blood had yet to congeal, thus putting Kane's time of death at less than an hour ago. Sweeps of the area also didn't bring forth any clues, which signified only one thing. The person was experienced, probably another mercenary like her.

That would probably explain why she had been unable to ferret out a trace of his existence. Despite that, a nagging thought probed annoyingly at the back of her head...

"You were trained for this..."

Damn it! She pushed her body up in a jerk, water sloshing violently out of the tub. She towelled herself dry and padded out of the bathroom. This was her miss. Her _failure_.

And that's why, she uttered, resolution steeled in her eyes as she stared at the figure of a blue-headed male on her laptop screen, she WASN'T going to fail again.

Now all she had to do was banish the urge to see him top-bare again.

Settling down comfortably at her desk, she picked up a pen and started drawing circles at the four corners of a blank A2 sheet. Then, in each circle she added a single word; Place, When, How and Why. Scribblings were then written about the page in a messy fashion, around the borders of the circles.

That was how she had always worked; finding the elegance in chaos.

* * *

><p>Place: The Regency &amp; St. Elliot's Hotel<p>

When: 18th February 2012. Funny how the Mayan Calendar was right, well, at least for him anyway, she thought. She had never believed in that hullabaloo.

How: Long-shot, dissolution thread. What the heck was that made out of anyway? She thought. But whatever, it always did the trick.

And finally, Why.

The answer to that was, to an outsider's opinion, always about the money. But she wasn't a cold-blooded, pitiless bitch who simply off-ed people for the 5 Cs of life. That's why the Why was always vital to maintain her sanity and conscience.

The add-on text at this corner usually revolved around underhand business deals and the natural vindictiveness of a human, and that she was simply the medium for them to channel their frustration. In a sense, she had always considered it her own contribution to the spirit of altruism.

But this time, the words were much simpler.

To _save_ herself from madness and ruin.

The plan was simple, but tastefully crafted. They had to attend a publicized interview in a week's time that was to be held in one of the large conference rooms in the Regency. A room that was designed to have one entire side walled with a huge glass panel.

As head secretary of Zala Industries, she had already made several trips down to rub elbows with the External Events Board of Directors to prepare for the event.

As head secretary of Zala Industries, she had to liaise with the Security Management, which gave her full access to knowledge of the arrangements for the event.

And, as head secretary of Zala Industries, she also had a responsibility to observe external circumstances while the meeting was proceeding. These duties dictated that she would have to leave his side at times to keep an eye out for any possible arising complications so that she could report them back to him immediately.

And that, was what had sealed his fate.

She had already pre-booked 2 suites in the St. Elliot's across the street from the Regency under different aliases on random dates; neither could be retraced back to the other. One room gave her a straight shot into the meeting room; the second was 5 rooms away at the far end of the hallway where human traffic was negligible.

With the help of a silenced drill, multiple tiny pinholes along the corners of the walls would be created across the adjoining walls, allowing a slack thread linkage between rooms 1 and 2 that would connect a long-shot's trigger to an activation device.

The bullet would only be sent onto its trajectory upon activation, which involved pulling the thread taut after which it would disintegrate into untraceable particulates. As a precaution, she would coat the sections of thread tunnelling through the walls with a dry plaster that would seal up the holes while the string disappeared.

The plaster would be applied at a specific hour, carefully timed to dry only after the string had disappeared, else a clean tug of the string would have been lost.

As a result, the gun could be fired without anyone having ever been in the room at that point of time. And as for the inconspicuous trigger device, the highly efficient maid service was the key.

Leaving programmed voice recordings on public phones designed to go off upon a signal was a specialty of hers. The door to room 2 would deliberately be left ajar, the string's end tied to the knob.

At a specified time, she would signal for the urgent message to be sent to the concierge for a personnel to pull the door close, citing security reasons, and thus adding tension to the thread.

All would be complete while she was safely ensconced in her room in the Regency. She would be blatantly innocent and everything would be perfect.

Simply, perfect.

* * *

><p>I spent quite a while plotting out the scheme's every nuance and detail, while considering proper layman terms. Hope you guys understand and enjoy the messy design.<p>

R&r pls!  
>Thanx!<p>

Faie.


	16. XVI: Friends

**16: Friends  
><strong>

"Attha, we need to leave."

Her head snapped up in surprise. "I'm sorry, Mr. Zala...?"

He gave her a pointed look. "I told you, it's Athrun. "

"The director heading the External Affairs Board on Junius 7 has recently met up with the Minister of Homeland Security. The recent spike in tourist traffic has prompted the idea of installing more advanced immigration gates. They're thinking of putting in biometric systems."

Huh. Another reason to kill him. His job was making hers increasingly difficult, especially when she needed to do an outbound kill.

"May I know when we're slated to leave, _sir_?"

"You don't have many friends, do you? In any case, tomorrow."

Her mind reeled in surprise. "But it's the holiday season now on Junius 7, it's not going to be easy to get accommodation!"

"That's not a problem. My friend's there with his wife now and they have an out-of-town villa. I've arranged rooms for us."

He did say rooms, as in _plural_...right?

"Is ... it possible if I ..."

"No. You'd best pack early. We're leaving at first light tomorrow. I need to catch the shuttle at 8." Since he left the office right after that, she was left hanging and without a choice... and a mental slap for ogling his rear as he walked.

* * *

><p>The shuttle flight was smooth and without a glitch, but somehow, she felt as though she was on a one-way flight to hell.<p>

Her ultimate motive required her to have no lingering attachments to the man; she had to be an emotionally and physically detached being.

The idea was ridiculously simple. See him only at work, speak only work, do only work, and stay the hell away from him unless downright necessary.

Or, at least it had been.

Now she was expected to spend 4 days together with him? Living under the same roof was not a problem, she was used to that. But as the only employee from HQ, she had no doubt that she was expected to literally be his shadow during this trip.

Cagalli idly wondered what type of friend Kira Yamato was.

* * *

><p>The man who greeted them was certainly amicable, with a bear-hug for his friend and a firm handshake and warm smile for Cagalli.<p>

"Hey, Kira."

"Ath, hey! We were wondering what time you'd be arriving. And I'd bet that you are Ms. Attha. Athrun paints you out to be a complete saint, you must be great at what you do."

Cagalli smiled humbly. "Yes, I suppose I am. What he can do, so can I. What he can't... Well let's just say that it's lucky I don't have to ask for help else we'd be both stuck."

Kira gave a short bark of laughter and plopped a hand on Athrun's shoulder, pity on his face. "What a spitfire you've got there. Showing you up so blatantly like that."

Athrun simply grinned, "She's proved her worth. Reneé would never dare speak like that." He peeked a head over Kira's shoulder. "Hey, Lacus. What's cooking?"

At the mention of his wife's name, Kira turned around and smiled, wrapping an arm around her small waist. The slender woman with a head of long baby-pink hair and startlingly blue eyes beamed at them, genuine friendship in her expression.

"Athrun, Cagalli! Come in, I've prepared prawns sautéed in mango salsa and creme brûlée."

Athrun affected a pained expression as Kira disappeared to get the luggages settled in. "You _are _sure that it's edible? The last time we got together for lunch, we had a sudden take-out of diarrhoea medicine after you ruined the roast." He faked a painful double-over that looked so ludicrous that Cagalli couldn't help but chuckle.

Lacus gave a warm smile. "I've been taking lessons. Fraü Kithling's been so generous with her words ever since I autographed a Mizu No Akashi album for her sister."

Pink hair...

"Oh my god! You're Lacus _Clyne_?" Cagalli suddenly flustered. "I love your music! The melody is hauntingly beautiful and their the perfect complement to my books. And... Damn it! I should have brought my iPod with me to get it signed."

Lacus laid her fingers gently on her arm. "I'd be happy to sign anything else for you."

A wide grin spread across Cagalli's face as she grabbed Lacus's hand and shook it wildly. "Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Uh...and did you just mention that you were taking lessons from Fraü Kithling...?"

"Yep."

"Kithling... as in Saschka Kithling...?'"

"Yep."

Cagalli's body seem to freeze in place, even her breathing stopped. Athrun turned to glance at her, worried, but he didn't get very far.

The next thing he knew, she had flung herself at him in wild abandon, dropping wet kisses on his cheeks as she gripped the lapels of his Armani tightly. "Attha..."

Her smile was shining so exuberantly that he nearly stumbled backwards with shock.

"You...you... Fantastic man! You're the best boss ever!" She tiptoed up and pressed her lips firmly against his for a long time, then tore away to grab Lacus by her hand and disappeared into the kitchen, excitement flowing from her questions.

Athrun stood there, utterly dumbfounded.

Did...did she just kiss him? Out of her own volition? Granted, it was because of Lacus, but Cagalli certainly didn't give _her _a lip-lock.

Wow. Friends were great.

"You _dog_."

Athrun whipped his head around to see Kira leaning against the doorframe, a sly smirk on his face.

"I... You saw it! She made the move, not me."

"Yes, but... You certainly didn't look as surprised as I'd thought you would. This isn't the first time, is it?"

"Uh..."

"Having seen your inner Casanova in action before, this is probably the chastest encounter with her yet."

"I...you... Ugh, shut up, will you? Ne. Kira. I'm _really _hungry. Let's go for lunch."

"Wow, Ath. I _really _didn't notice you trying to change the topic. So... Which are you planning to eat first? The prawns, or..."

"Kira, honey! Hurry up! The food's getting cold!"

Kira gave him a sulky look, "You're safe... for now. But this ain't over. I want to hear every detail later, down to the very last nasty thing."

Thank God that they had to leave for a preliminary debriefing with his director after lunch, Athrun sighed, as he followed suit.

* * *

><p>Lunch was a simple, yet elegant affair. Cagalli was regaled with comical tales of what a wimp Athrun used to be before puberty, and how manipulative he actually was. How he cried to get his way, and how he wailed to push the blame onto others, especially Kira.<p>

However, there was one time that his plan to paint the neighbour's cat red in an attempt to scare the owner had backfired, badly. The freaked feline had clambered all over him, leaving him caught red handed, literally, with paint stinging the fresh cuts on his arms.

Cagalli noticed that her boss had turned a bright, sheepish crimson when Kira mentioned that the sight of a "bloodied" teenage Athrun running home had nearly traumatized the girl he fancied when he had accidentally bumped into her.

The sight of him blushing introduced an unfamiliar emotion in her chest; her heart raced and her fingers itched to wipe the blush off his cheeks. She was careful to not reveal her thoughts, schooling her expression to show only amusement.

As for the food, Lacus had prepared a sumptuous meal that left them stuffed and satisfied. And the best thing was that she had also agreed to introduce Cagalli to Fraü Kithling, leaving her was beyond ecstatic. The German chef made the best soufflés in all of downtown Manhattan.

Cagalli looked up from her peach and apple salad to thank her hosts again when she saw Kira lean forward to kiss his wife on the cheek. Lacus's face blushed pink as she giggled embarrassedly, as she stopped her husband from going further. So instead he settled for his arm looped over her shoulders as he sipped at his St. Helen's, a spoil of war, so he claimed, from the antique wine auction at the Vin Exquis.

There was so much love in his eyes that it took Cagalli by surprise, a nostalgic memory of her lost parents surfacing, nearly bringing an unexpected tear to her eye. And somehow, after seeing them, she also felt guilt and awkwardness simmering within.

There they were, raw, genuine emotion practically _oozing _out of them, love blatant in their subtle acts. And here she was, lying through her teeth to a man to whom she feared she was getting to know a little too well.

She liked his smile a little too much, liked hearing his laugh a little too much, and liked hearing her name fall off his lips a little too much.

She liked watching him at work a little too much, liked knowing what he liked a little too much, and liked having him around, alive, a little too much.

One wouldn't feel this way about another who was merely a friend, let alone a target, and she feared that she had let herself cross over the edge just a little too much.

* * *

><p>So long...but so fun to write.<br>I wanted an epiphany of sorts, so there it is. Hope it's a nice one.

R&r pls.

Thanx,  
>Faie.<p> 


	17. XVII: Recount

**XVII: Recount**

Cagalli flopped down tiredly onto the customer's couch, exhausted and utterly drained. Without a care for the daggers the other women were glaring at her, she propped her entire body onto the velvet cushions, and pretended to sleep.

The meeting was in a word, HORRID; yet he had acted as though it was the greatest thing that had ever occurred to him.

For one, a huge deal like this required signing piles upon piles of documents to finalize the contract between the different parties involved. Writing the same name over and over again seemed... Really old school.

The city had come a long way from a simple agricultural lifestyle, so why haven't they heard of Cloud Computing?

For another, Cagalli was certain that the Logistics Director was a misogynist. As soon as she had finished typing in the meeting's minutes and was about to take a well-deserved break, he had let out a casual comment about how tea made by a _woman_ was _always _the best.

She had decided to play the polite host by serving them a cup, but as she had turned to leave, the bastard had had the gall to draw out an hourglass with his hands and wolf a crude whistle.

She had wanted nothing more than to serve him more than his share of a cuppa. The billion dollars had not been enough to stop her. But an imploring look from _him _had.

On the way back to the villa, they had met with a traffic jam arising from the unfortunate mishap of some drunk drivers. As a result, they had been stalled along the expressway for nearly an hour, their lives made colorful only by the language the driver in the next vehicle was spouting.

After a much delayed escape, they had stopped by a French cafe known for its mocha lattes, famished. They were already late for dinner, so he had called back to inform their hosts that they would be dining outside.

The baristas were cordial and professional, but the waitresses had practically tripped over themselves trying to take his order. Thankfully, he had not paid them much attention...until _she _had shown up.

Cagalli had just returned from the washroom when she saw him conversing with a pretty redhead in a familiar tone that he did not use on strangers. Upon seeing her standing there, the redhead had smiled, and went "Whoops". She then slid out of Cagalli's seat and and settled back down on the opposite sofa instead, beside him.

It was...

The woman was Flay Allster, manager of the cafe, his old schoolmate... and also the woman whom he had nearly traumatized when he was caught running home soaked in red paint, scratches along his arms.

...painfully...

All throughout the meal, Flay had hogged the limelight with tales of their childhood _together_, school hours _together_, and the _sweet _story of how he had left anonymous flowers on her doorstep the next day, although the anonymity was ruined by the letter of apology that came later that day in her locker.

...horribly...

Flay laughed, a sexy chuckle that got even the guys at the next table to look over, when she recalled how he had practically begged her not to hate him. He simply gave a sheepish smile in reply, but Cagalli had not missed the shadow of a blush that had flickered across his face.

...terribly...

Flay had eventually left their table when a barista had called her away to look over some accounts, but not before they had exchanged contact numbers. After she had disappeared, it was as though their private conversation of two had drained him dry of speech, and the meal had become a quiet affair.

...Vexing.

When the waitress had come to settle their bill, she had simpered and bent over backwards to attend to him. At one point, she tried accentuating how buxom she was by _accidentally _knocking the salt shaker over with a forced bounce. Which in turn had knocked over Cagalli's vial of leftover sugar syrup, spilling sweet juice all over her skirt.

Practically growling at her, Cagalli had stalked out of the cafe, with him tagging leisurely after her, grinning. And then, instead of driving them straight back to the house, he had parked at the entrance of a popular boutique and dragged her inside, instructing the saleswomen to fetch her some new skirts to try out while he perused the suits at the men's section.

A white skirt streaked with glossy copper finally did the trick and while he settled the bill (My fault, he claimed. Damn right it was, she had replied), she had flopped down onto the sofa, bushed, immediately crumpling her new skirt.

He had choked back a laugh when he had seen how she had positioned herself. "I just paid for that. Do you mind?"

She ignored him.

"Come on, get up. I'll take you someplace that will ease that nasty temper of yours." Dragging her off the couch by an arm, he fitted the seatbelt around her waist and merely laughed in return when she snarled her protest.

* * *

><p>He was right. The little hill sprouting in the middle of the local park had a beautiful view of the sunset. They had been there for 10 minutes now, staring at the sky and laughing over the feeble seductive attempts of the woman with the bouncy boobs.<p>

Inwardly, Cagalli felt relief at knowing that he was not the chauvinist that so many men were; the type who prioritized breasts above brains.

Not that it mattered.

As she watched the marmalade yellows of the sky dip into a darker hue of crimson and tangerine reds, Cagalli started to feel her fury drip away...

Just like the stray drops of chocolate ice-cream that were trickling down her cone.

"Crap."

"Wait."

She jerked back in surprise when he suddenly reached forward to lift her wrist towards his face, and licked away the brown trails. Cagalli's heart thudded out a speedy beat as she looked at him, with his head still tilted at an angle, his lips poised just above her hand.

As he turned to look up at her, his gaze was intense, and his emerald eyes were reflecting the dimming red of the dusk. Cagalli felt her mouth go dry, and nervously, she licked her lips. The tiny movement did not go unnoticed by him, as his gaze flickered down for just a second. She felt him pull her wrist backwards, bringing her closer to him.

The touch was soft, but tenderly sweet. She felt herself arch involuntarily as his arm came around her back, pressing her form tightly against his own. Sighing against his lips, she felt his tongue slip out and trace the line of her bottom lip. Unable to resist, she immediately acquiesced.

The dance was slow, and Cagalli felt herself being slowly stretched out across the grassy lawn, her head resting on his thighs as he bent himself over her, one hand cradling her cheek. He tilted his head a little more, his lips moving sensually across hers, as he delved even deeper into her heart.

All this while, his other hand was gently caressing her ...

"No!"

Cagalli shot up and jumped nearly 5 feet away from, her breath fogging up the chilly night air. Athrun sat there, his hair mussed and clothes wrinkled from when she had been gripping them in an effort to get even closer, confusion etched in his handsome features.

She paced up and down the slope, her hands clenching and unclenching. When she finally stopped to stare at him, her eyes were wild.

"You... Are driving me crazy! And not in a good way." Cagalli moaned, one hand gripping her hair in a mad-woman's gesture. "You left my room in a hurry, looking so guilty! And then... The orange juice... and the talk about seduction...and...and... You're fucking engaged!"

"Cagalli..."

"No. I'm not listening. I'm leaving. Right now."

Without a second word, she grabbed her leather briefcase and stalked down the hill. It took him 10 patient minutes of driving at a slow pace beside her, coaxing her with threats of horrible feet if she walked back in heels, to get her back into the car.

The journey back was marked with awkwardness. Each time he tried to speak, she either turned a deaf ear or "Shhh-ed" him really loudly. He could swear that each time she did that, the length of the sound would increase exponentially.

When they finally returned, Kira gave his friend an odd look when she dashed past him and disappeared straight into the house, her face harried. A look at the resolute expression on his friend's face, however, told him to hold his tongue.

Athrun watched the silhouette of her form flash across the windows of the corridor.

She was not getting away.

* * *

><p>Faie.<p> 


	18. XVIII: Runaway

**XVIII: Runaway**

* * *

><p>A clear, sing-song voice broke the peaceful silence of the country morning, sending a flock of birds twittering in response.<p>

"Guys, breakfast!"

The coral-haired songstress smiled benignly as she felt a warm hand hook her hair away from her neck and a hint of morning stubble brush the nape of her neck. She responded with a sweet "Morning, darling" and turned around to give her husband a peck on the cheek.

She gasped when she felt Kira wrap an arm tightly around her waist, and a warm hand slid slowly under her tank top to caress the small of her back. Kira turned his head a little, turning an innocent kiss into a hot lip-lock. Lacus blushed, but opened her own mouth in compliance. Apparently last night had not been enough to satisfy him.

Oh well, she wasn't surprised.

She blushed even more furiously when she caught sight of another male leaning against the ornamental doorframe of the kitchen's entrance, smiling like a proud parent.

Embarrassesd, Lacus pushed lightly against Kira's chest, and he looked up in surprise.

"What? Who...? Oh."

Kira took his seat at the table obediently, but only after making sure his friend had heard the less-than-subtle animosity in his morning greeting. All Athrun did was laugh and was about to make a snide comment when he suddenly noticed the table was empty on one corner, clearly devoid of a fourth occupant.

He was just about to ask when Lacus made the first move. "Hasn't she waken up yet?" Athrun ignored the suspect stares Kira was sneaking his way and turned to leave.

"I'll go check."

One peek into the elaborately furnished room of gold and crimson was enough to tell him that it had been vacated. Completely. Bedsheets were made, and cupboards were bare. The room was devoid of any hint that someone had recently been staying there, except for a single vellum note scribbled with the neat, fancy penmanship that he was now so familiar with that proved otherwise.

_Thank you._

_C. Y. Attha_

"Damn."

Athrun flung the note down and dashed back to his own room. He snatched up his jacket and sped down the corridor, right past the kitchen and out the door. The couple followed him out to the garage, worry etched into their faces.

"Did you find her?"

Athrun replied with a grim smile. "No. But I know exactly where to look."

* * *

><p>The traffic to the shuttle port was a veritable hassle. Crowds were flocking their way to the port in scores, intent on securing a flight off the planet. Funny how he was intent on doing the exact opposite. Thank God that there was a separate lane that bifurcated from the main road 10km before the port, specially for foreign big shot expatriates such as himself. Tossing his keys to the valet at the VIP parking slots, he took off for the departure hall.<p>

The atrium was chock-full of travellers, luggage in a hand, toddlers' wrists in the other, exchanging frantic words about "Darren's not here yet!" and "The shuttle's leaving in 5, so hurry the hell up!"

Athrun scanned the digital board of flight schedules suspended up high above them, blinking out countless different lights and deadlines every few seconds. PLANTS...PLANTS... there! Due to leave in 3 hours. Perfect. That meant that she was still here somewhere. He took off for the ticketing counters, ignoring the furor he engendered when he blatantly dissected the snaking queues.

"Hi ma'am, I..."

"No, sir. I'm not buying any tickets... Yes."

"Now, as I was saying, I need you to check if this woman is..."

"Sir, I know I've cut your queue, but as I've told her, I'm not here to buy tickets. I just need her to do a check for me on one passenger. I won't...NO. It won't take long at all. You'll still make it home for dinner with your grandma... YES. I'll refund you your damned ticket if you miss your flight."

"Now. Back to what I was saying..."

* * *

><p>She wasn't on any of the flights leaving that day. They had sold out all tickets to PLANTS since two days ago. That was great. That meant that she was stuck here till tomorrow. Now, just to find...<p>

* * *

><p>He brisk-walked the entire length of the hall for the third time, frustration threatening to boil over from the futile search. So far, all he had found was a taco stand (he needed breakfast), 3 girls from his damned fan club (apparently that old magazine had gone viral and he was now an international celebrity) and a piece of old gum on a seat he had had the unfortunate luck to choose. Where the hell was she?<p>

This was really annoying. Athrun sighed, and turned to head back to the carpark. And that's when an argument to his right caught his attention.

This sort of fight was actually really quite common at shuttle ports when it came to any holiday season. The typical scene of strangers duking it out with half-pleading, half-threatening words. Bargaining a good price, then retracting the offer. Cries of sympathy to any good samaritan willing to listen to grant them their family reunion.

The male participant was clearly ambivalent. A inner emotional debate between returning early to catch the 2012 Rocker Jackers World Tour afternoon performance and getting a 300% profit on his original ticket price.

The female participant was clearly desperate. It showed in her face, her eyes, her hand gestures. Her jacket was askew, her portfolio bag strap had slipped to her nook of her elbow, her blonde hair was tussled and wild. Wilder than it usually was, anyway. Athrun smiled and walked over.

With a lithe move, he slid his arm around the female's waist and pulled her flush against himself, remembering to affect a expression of contrition as he did so.

Cagalli gasped in surprise and consternation as she looked up into a pair of emerald eyes set in a handsome face that was all too familiar. They haunted her dreams at night, brightened her days, and set her loins on fire, just like how they were doing now.

She forced herself to gather her wits and pushed back against his chest, willing herself not to sigh like a fool as she felt the hard, chiseled chest underneath her palms. His grip slackened a notch before he tightened it even more, now refusing to let her pull herself back even the slightest inch.

Her eyes widened in aggravation when she heard him speak. Not to her, but to the annoying bastard who kept choosing his Mohawk-ed celebrity over her unbelievable offer for his ticket.

"I am so very, very sorry for the inconvenience sir. My _wife_ and I had a bit of an argument and she ran out this morning. I sincerely apologize that she chose you to take her anger out on."

Understanding crossed the man's face, and he broke out in a friendly grin. "Don't need to say more. My wife is also a bit of a spitfire. Disappeared for a whole day after I took her out to a ball game for our second anniversary."

Athrun forced himself to remain stoic when he felt a sharp pinch on his arm and a less-than-subtle stomp on his foot.

"It's a completely childish move on their part," he picked up, a warm smile on his face. "But it's only after they disappear, that you realize how much they truly mean to you. If they leave, you feel as though you've lost half of yourself too."

The stranger nodded in agreement and left after he had given Athrun a final encouraging pat on his shoulders.

Cagalli froze in his arms. Her breath stilled, but her heart raced as she tried to make sense of what he had just said. It was clearly an act, but the emotion in his voice made it sound entirely genuine. After the man had moved out of earshot, she looked up and her breath caught when she realized that he was staring down at her intently. Nervously, she turned away and moistened her lips.

She heard him sigh in exasperation and release his grip around her. It was obvious that he wasn't trusting her again though, when he took hold of her luggage and portfolio, effectively cut off her escape now that her passport and identifications were all with him.

Athrun strode off, but quickly realized that she wasn't following behind. He turned back and saw her standing there in the middle of the throng, her hands locked stubbornly. Frowning, he backpedalled and gripped her upper arm firmly. Having to pull a contumacious female intent on rooting herself to a spot along and maneuvering luggages at the same time was a feat, but he wouldn't have made it to the top of the industrial food chain if not for his staunch determination.

They made it all the way to the car park without too many hitches. Athrun arranged her luggages into the rear and turned around to open the door when he realized his unwilling passenger was missing...and was now making a beeline dash for the main road.

"Damn!"

He took off after her departing figure when a deafening honk blasted his left ear. Whipping his head around, his eyes widened when he saw a 10-wheeler trailer speed their way. It was a gargantuan thing, most probably an oil tanker or an industrial truck of sorts.

The fantastic part was that he could still stop in time to prevent getting mashed in its front grilles.

The not so fantastic part was that she wasn't so lucky.

"Fuck! Cagalli!"

Adrenaline and desperation pumped through him, clouding his judgement and obliterated any senses that screamed at self-preservation. The fiery combination jetted him along the road in long, blatantly non-Natural strides.

"Cagalli!"

She screamed for him to shut up and to let her go, but the distress in her voice was almost tangible. She had definitely seen the truck, but her accursed pride was keeping her on a forward path. Cursing under his breath, Athrun pushed himself further, hearing only the crunch of gravel under his shoes and feeling the burning of his chest.

Now a mere meter away, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her struggling form tightly, adamant on NOT letting go. Athrun extended a leg in front of him and willed all his strength into a final kick that propelled them backwards.

The maneuver worked just as planned, except that the forceful momentum of the movement and their combined weight pushed them back farther than he had hoped.

The last thing he remembered as his vision blacked out was the sharp, burning sting at the back of his skull and the frantic screams of a woman in agony and fear.

* * *

><p>It's been a long hiatus. Hope this doesn't disappoint.<p>

Faie.


	19. XIX: Waking up to You

**XIX: Waking Up to You**

Ohmigosh…I dredged up this fic while clearing the stuff on my laptop. Damn thing's too old to work fast while cluttered with rubbish, well, mainly the pictures I downloaded of sexy, sexy Athrun and Natsu. Ahahahaha!

*A/n: it's been so long, and I feel a little dirty. So be warned! .

Crying.

Someone was crying.

It was a funny sensation, knowing that someone was crying for him. The last time anyone had done that was many years ago, when his mother had approached him in his bed, and thinking that he was asleep, has sat down, shedding quiet tears over how she had been unable to protect him once again from this father's temper tantrums. It was odd, since from that night onwards, his father had never again laid another hand on him, despite how angry he got. Instead, he would catch glimpses of bruises and fresh cuts on his mother's arms, and sometimes on her stomach, when he would accidentally walk in on her changing.

In retrospect, he should have realized earlier that his father had found another outlet to release his stress and fury. Or should he say, outlets?

There was always that odd phone call coming during dinner time, when Patrick Zala would glance at the lit screen, and with nothing more than a cursory glance to his wife and son, depart for the night, sometimes only returning a few days later. He was young then, and did not understand the unadulterated pain on his mother's face whenever that happened.

He had grown up too late, and by then, his mother had died from the AIDS virus that his father had passed to her, probably from one of his paramours. It was only with her passing did he finally acknowledge the fact that his father had been unfaithful for years. By then, Athrun had made himself into a young rising star in the business world, one that the Zala patriarch knew that he could not do without. Father and son got by by rarely acknowledging each other, except for the annual conferences that demanded both their presences, and even then, Patrick was his CEO, nothing more.

His mother was gone now, so who was this crying over him?

Athrun opened his eyes slowly, grogginess flooding his mind as bright sunlight filtered in through the blinds. He looked about for the source of the crying, his eyes finally landing on the blurred figure of a woman with startlingly golden hair slouched over the side of his bed, her body shaking every time she sniffed.

He immediately recognized her, and the thought brought a smile to his face.

Cagalli pressed her face deeper into the soft cotton of the mattress, her body wracked with fear and guilt. Memories flashed through her mind, and her body clenched up again. She saw herself kneeling next to him. She was touching his torso, his arm and his head. Red stained her palms, her blouse. It dripped down the gash across his back, where he had rammed into the edged metal railings along the side of the road. It trickled across the back of his thighs, when the sudden movements of his body against the hot, rough asphalt had ripped through his jeans.

Someone had gripped her arms forcefully, their anxious voices persuading her to get off him. No, she had screamed, Get off me! It was the Devil coming to tear his soul from his body, and she'd never see him again. With all the might she could muster, she had kicked the Devil, and felt a rush of pride when she had heard it groan in pain. Then the Devil had injected her with something, and despite her best efforts to stay conscious, she had drifted into a deep sleep, only to wake up in a warm bed, Lacus' worried eyes gazing down at her, her cheeks stained and mottled from hours of crying.

Cagalli hardly remembered the drive to the hospital; she could hardly bring herself to wake through the silent hallways, towards the suite at the end of the corridor. They were bringing her to see the cold, lifeless body of her boss…man...lover? She could not make up her mind. They were going to look at her with a reprimanding glare at how she had cost the world a wonderful man. And she was going to take it. She wouldn't have had the energy to protest otherwise anyway. She felt dead inside.

It was only when she saw the heart monitor beeping out a steady pulse next to the body that she felt her own heart stutter to life again. He had been quiet for 2 days now, the woman? man? next to her had assured, but he was undeniably alive.

Cagalli traced her fingers along the planes of his handsome, albeit slightly gaunt face. His hair was as smooth as ever, his eyelashes were so long they tangled at the ends. His breathing was steady and strong, his chest rising slightly with each breath. God, he was alive! Oh thank God! She had wailed, hot tears of relief streaming freely down her face. She had never left his side since, and when she did, it was only splash water on her face and relieve herself. She only ate when hot meals were delivered to her bedside whenever Lacus and Kira came to visit.

There was no way in hell she was going to miss the moment when he woke up.

Athrun took in a shaky conscious breath for the first time in a week. He turned his head about, wincing when a dull stab of pain etched itself on the back of his. Gingerly, he played with his fingers, willingly each one of them to move in turn. Next he moved on to his feet. Those were harder, they felt dead and lifeless. A sudden fear struck him. Was he paralyzed below his torso? Even with his Coordinator abilities, the sudden bashing that he had taken against the unyielding metal could easily leave them damaged for life. In spite of how they were viewed by the Naturals, Coordinators weren't perfect. He tried harder, first one toe, then the next, till he had successfully managed to wiggle every one of them. Good. They weren't paralyzed, but rather, stiff from prolonged disuse. Athrun turned towards the woman next to him, a gentle smile playing across his dry lips. Weakly, he lifted up a hand and reached it across to gently pat on the woman's shoulders.

Cagalli's head snapped up instantly. Her golden orbs shone with tears, swollen and red from the constant crying. Her hair was dull, and lackluster. Her once succulent lips were chewed sore and cracked from a lack of care. There were criss-crossing sleep lines etched into her once smooth skin, and her shirt was wrinkled beyond repair. Athrun thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman before in his life. "Hello, gorgeous." He prompted weakly, hoping to get a reply from her, instead of the wide-eyed, gaping look that she was giving him. To his dismay, her eyes filled up with tears once more, shoulders hunched up, and her arms trembled. He had never seen her so small and frightened before, and the sight scared the hell out of him.

He stroked the smooth curve of her cheeks, his fingers tangling themselves in her unruly hair. She merely cried even harder, the childlike bawls echoing across the room. Athrun winced, thank heavens he was rich enough to afford a private suite. Still, he needed to shut her up, and there was only one surefire way he knew how to. Smirking, he reached his hand around the graceful curve of her neck and tugged her downwards, ignoring the surprised his action elicited as he felt the rough, but plump curves of her lips graze across his.

Despite his debilitated state, he felt a sudden hunger rush through him as the warmth of her kiss seeped across their lips. Growling, he pulled harder, and the blonde fell atop of him, her weight nearly knocking the air out of him. He molded his lips to hers as his hand slid down the soft curve of her back, his fingers finally lightly grasping the sexy curve of her butt. He gave a devilish smirk when she involuntarily arched into his palm, a pleasure-filled shudder racing towards his groin as the movement pressed her full breasts into his chest.

Cagalli gave a soft sigh against his ear as he moved his lips down towards her neck. How was he doing this? The man looked half dead but a minute ago. Still, she couldn't complain about the sensations that were tingling across her skin, as one hand caressed her butt and the other stroked her hair gently. She blushed at the idea of someone walking into the room at that moment, only to find her halfway atop the patients in what was very obviously sexual harassment. As to who was being harassed, she could not say, as her own hands clutched at the thin material of his hospital gown, her fingers itching to feel the skin below, knowing that it would be smooth, the hard muscles sculpting out deliciously formed washboard abs.

Damn it, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to touch him. Oh what the heck, he already had his hand shamelessly cupped against her ass. Sliding her hand inside the opening of the top, she marveled at how toned his chest was despite the man being half-dead. Well, less dead, she blushed, as she felt the tell-tale twitch of his male organ against her upper thigh. She sneaked a hand downwards, tracing the lines of his abs as she went. She felt his body buck under hers when she reached the V above his groin.

"You tease," she heard him mutter against her collarbone, his warm breath awakening senses she had forgotten she had after a week of grief. He hissed as he felt her slender fingers lightly trace the growing bulge in the thin cotton. He closed his eyes as he savoured the feel of her tracing circles at his tip, and felt himself buck again when she finally closed her slender fingers around his shaft. Opening his eyes, he gazed up at her, her face beautiful from the blushing. Noticing her smirk at the edge of her lips, he decided he wanted a little payback.

Athrun slowly moved his hand further down the curve of her butt, grinning when Cagalli's eyes widened when she realized that he had two fingers poised directly above her core. Her eyes fluttered close as she willed herself to remain calm. What was taking him so long!? All he needed to do was press down and she would…

"Cagalli, how are you t-?"

Startled, her head snapped upwards only to see the shocked face of Lacus staring right at them. The basket of flowers she was holding tumbled to the ground as she blushed an adorable pink. To make matters worse, she heard a second familiar voice talking to the nurse outside. Godamnit!

Flustered, she attempted to wiggle off Athrun's body, blushing harder when she felt him twitch again against her palm, only to realize that he had one arm locked like a vise around her waist, and it was obvious he wasn't going to let her go so easily. Struggling harder, she gasped when she heard the door open again and a male's voice sound out a similar greeting, only to end in a choke.

Well, shit.

Hmmmm. I supremely apologize for MIA-ing for so long. Yikes. I have no excuses.

Faie.


End file.
